A Sure Thing
by Zero to Hero
Summary: In a moment of irrational thinking, Arnold agrees to let Helga help him get Lila to fall for him. However, he soon learns the hard way the nothing is ever a sure thing. H & A
1. A Distant Memory

Author's note: New story for you all, or el cuento nuevo para ustedes (I think that's right, but if it's wrong, give me props for trying. I don't know a lot of Spanish, though I have to say I would love to learn to speak it fluently. In my opinion, it is one of the most beautiful languages).

Disclaimer – I do not own Hey Arnold! That happy (or unhappy, depending on how you look at it) honor belongs to someone else.

A Sure Thing

Chapter 1 – A Distant Memory

~Thursday,  April 10~ 

            It was a gorgeous spring day; one of those days when you really do thank God you are alive. The sky was the bluest cloudless blue, the birds were singing only the sweetest songs, the grass was as green as the emerald hills of Ireland, and the sun seemed to warm you inside and out. Yes, today was a great day to be alive.

            Unless, of course, you were stuck in a notorious hell known as high school. Then the day just taunted you, like test-driving your dream car while you know you could never afford it. These were the thoughts that were going through a certain football head's brain while he was supposed to be researching Title IX for his English paper. His face contorted into a deep frown. _What kind of a teacher assigns a huge research paper the first day of class after vacation? _he thought bitterly. He had had the time of his life down in Southern California, and while he had reasons to come back to reality, he had just as many to stay away in a fantasyland. 

            Arnold sighed. It was not that he hated school; he generally liked it, but it was early April and ever since he returned from Spring Break all he wanted to do was play baseball and his guitar. School no longer interested him, and his senioritis (even though he was a junior) was wiping out any motivation he had to actually put effort into his homework. Arnold started drumming his pencil to "Last Nite" out of pure boredom. He had begun counting ceiling tiles when Gerald sat down beside him.

            "Hey, man. How's the paper coming?"

            Arnold showed him his empty notebook. "How do you think?" He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be in _your_ English class?" he asked suspiciously, although he was most grateful for company.

            "Arnold, I'm supposed to still be on the beaches of California, and I think you will agree with me on that."

            Arnold laughed. "You couldn't be more right."

            "It is a crime against humanity to keep the children of this fine institution," he started, speaking louder to the group of students who were as bored as Arnold, "in doors, when the good Lord has so graciously bestowed upon us a day so glorious in natural beauty! It is unrecreational, it is unconstitutional, and it's just plain wrong," Gerald proclaimed, his voice increasing in volume with every word.

            The group of students, who actually more resembled a crowd now as everyone in the library flocked towards the booming voice, applauded Gerald, who was currently standing on the chair so he could better address his public. "If there is anyone here who dares to argue against me, than that man is a fool, and he can stay here and work his tail off for a school which doesn't even care enough about it's students to give them descent lunch meat while I go and enjoy myself. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice with pool parties and be glad with such fine ladies as yourselves in bikinis!"

            The students went crazy, and Arnold watched with great amusement. Gerald had never lost his edge with public speaking. However, not everyone found it so entertaining.

            "Mr. Johannsen!" one of the librarians cried.

            "Yes, Ms. Jorgenson?"

            "That kind of behavior will not be tolerated in my library, young man!"

            Gerald smiled at her. "Ms. Jorgenson, you misunderstood me. I was trying to get the students excited about being in the library. You see, from my speech they could find inspiration."

            "And what kind of inspiration were you trying to give them?" she asked coldly.

            "My aim was to get them to . . . to . . ." he paused, looking around the large room for inspiration. His eyes fell on Arnold's empty notebook. "To become excited about researching. You see, you cut me off before I could thoroughly explain myself. I was going to say that we're lucking enough that although we're stuck inside on such a wonderful day as this, we're able to drink from the fountain of knowledge in our school's wonderful library that is run by the most amazing and intelligent women, such as yourself."

            Ms. Jorgenson blushed deeply. She was young, late twenties or early thirties, plain looking and extremely uptight. Most students guessed that she had gone on very few dates in her lifetime. Thus for such a popular and, Arnold supposed by the general reaction of most females around him, attractive young man to charm her, she easily turned to putty in Gerald's hands. "Well, it was a very stirring speech," she said in a slightly higher voice, her cheeks a light pink.

            Gerald made a face, but quickly recovered. He placed a hand over his chest. "That means so much. To receive such an opinion from such a superior being, why, I'm speechless."

            Arnold was caught in a state between nausea and intense laugher, and, not wanting to fall to either extremity, he sat while his insides felt like exploding.

            Her face turned a darker shade. "Well, just try to be a bit quieter, okay?"

            "Whatever I can do to make your job easier. I've always said that the librarians are the hardest working but least appreciated people here, and that's simply a crime. You should be the most appreciated and celebrated for all your hard work."

            Ms. Jorgenson's face was now a very distinctive shade of vermilion. "Well, if there's anything I can do for you, you just ask, okay?" she said, clearly flustered from such praises.

            Gerald nodded. "I'll be sure to do that."

            She finally returned to the offices on the side of the library, extremely pleased. Arnold turned to his friend. "And here I was led to believe you thought the cafeteria ladies were the hardest working but least appreciated people here."

            "That's on stuffed-crust pizza day."

            "And what's today?"

            "Do-whatever-you-can-not-to-get-detention-from-the-librarians-day."

            "I see." Arnold said simply, and he returned to his homework, and wrote his name at the top left corner of the page before deciding it was time for another study break. He pulled out his latest issue of _Alternative Press_ and began to flip through it.

            Gerald leaned back in his chair and eyed a freshman girl at the table across from them. "This sure beats the hell outta English."

            "Speaking of which, how'd you get out of there anyways?" Arnold asked as he averted his attention from his magazine to the ceiling.

            "I wrote a pass to the bathroom." The girl smiled at him seductively as she walked over to the computers, and she continued to stare at him.

            Arnold finally altered his gaze and smirked. "Cool, just don't go on my stuff." He watched Gerald flirt with the girl from across the library. "I thought you and Rosalie were dating."

            "We're just going to prom together. We're not dating or anything."

            "Are you sure she knows that?"

            "If she doesn't she will soon."

            Arnold sighed, disgusted with Gerald's general behavior towards women, and returned to his previous task.

            After a few minutes, Gerald turned his attention back to Arnold, clearly bored. "What are you doing?"

            Arnold pointed up. "Counting ceiling tiles."

            "Now that's exciting. I swear, Arnold, sometimes you seem to have the personality of a wet blanket."

            Arnold merely shrugged, so Gerald changed the subject. "So, is the baseball superstar ready for our game tonight?" He shook his head. "I think I read another article or two about you yesterday. 'The pride of South Central,'" he finished sarcastically.

            "I'm not a superstar, and diffidently not 'the pride of South Central.'"

            "Please, Arnold, don't' try to be modest. You are ranked, like, number two in the stare or something."

            "I'm not trying to be. I'm just playing. Anyways, you could be one if you didn't have to balance work and baseball."

            "Arnold, if you had a chance to work at a recording company, I think you'd take it."

            "Probably, and I know how much you want to bridge the gap between sports and music, since it has never been done before," he said sardonically.

            "Hey, I'm going to be just like Nelly, blending hip-hop with –"

            "Getting the big hits, making the big shots, and getting paid the big buck the whole way through," Arnold finished. "I just have one question: Where are you going to wear year band-aid?"

            "Arnold, how many times have I told you that it is worn in the honor of a friend?" Gerald asked, but his words were drowned out by, "Out of my way, Geek-bait."

            They looked at each other. "Helga."

            "Some things never change," Arnold said, watching her shove a freshman boy out of a chair.

            "You got that right. Man, that girl is the same was she was in elementary school," Gerald added, and he shifted the conversation on to Rhonda's party this weekend, but Arnold was not listening. He was busy thinking about the girl across the room. He saw Helga quite a bit since they had a few classes together and at various social events, but they had drifted apart in junior high and now rarely talked. As he watched her read the newspaper, he could not help but feel a little sad.

            She looked up and caught him staring at her. Helga looked very surprised, possibly even slightly hopeful, but glared at him so quickly Arnold was sure he imagined it.

            "Arnold?"

            "Huh?" he said as he snapped out of his reverie.

            "It's five 'til, so I'm gonna go back to class. I'll see ya after school."

            "'Kay,." Arnold waited until Gerald left to pull out his journal. He guessed it was dorky, but he got the habit from his dad who said it was a great way to sort out the mind. Arnold grabbed a pen and began to write.

It's funny how you can drift apart from a person when you see them everyday. That's how I feel with Helga. We never were that good of friends, but I still always felt a connection with her. I think out of everyone I've ever known, she's the one who has understood me the best, even more than Gerald. How strange is that? But now she's like a distant memory, a part of my past that I don't think I can ever get back. She was always there from me whenever I needed someone, and she was someone I could always count on to, in her own way, be a shoulder to lean on. Lord, I miss that.

            He closed his journal and left the library as the bell ran. He was ready for tonight's game. He had been itching to play all day in the prefect weather. It was South Central High's first home game, and though he was naturally humble, he could not help but want to show was his stuff to anyone and everyone. Junior year was important, and he was ready to finally win the state championship. The last two years South Central had lost in the first round of state, and they should have won both games. As much as Arnold tried to downplay it, he _was_ one of the best players in the state. Scouts would be calling on him a lot this year, and he was ready to everyone exactly what he was made of.

            A tall, slender girl with long auburn hair passed him in the hallway. He watched her as she reached her group of friends and began chatting away.

            Yes, he as ready to show everyone what he was made of, in more ways than one.

A/N: A little vague, but isn't everything vague in the beginning? Just something to think about. Later days.


	2. The Selling of Souls

A/N: Do you know what's crazy? My school has already had a cancellation this year (well, we should have been able to go home on the day we had a blackout, but the power went back on right after they started to dismiss us, and we had to go back to class. Forty minutes of sitting in the dark before they even started to let us go home, and then we had to go back to school. Honestly, idiots run my school). Normally I am upset when school is canceled because then we have to make it up later (we are now going on President's Day, but that's mostly normal. I think in the eleven years I have been in school, I've only had that day off once), but it was a very nice break in the middle of the week. Anyways, I think it is stupid that now we can only have a two-hour delay or a cancellation (we never call one hour delays, and we can't have three-hour and four-hour delays because it makes it very difficult to serve lunch, which you must do for it to count as a full school day in Indiana) because if you don't know, winters can be bad in Indiana. I honestly think I may be going to school in July. Anyways, I just wanted to rant a bit about that. ^_^

And may John Ritter, Johnny Cash, and Indiana's governor Frank O'Bannon rest in peace.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! Or any of the characters associated with it. However, I do own those characters I add in ^_^.

A Sure Thing

Chapter 2 – The Selling of Souls

                "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad."

                "Oh, honey, we are so proud of you. You were great out there," Stella said, hugging her son tightly. Many sixteen year-old boys would be embarrassed by his mom hugging them in front of all his teammates, but Arnold could not be happier.

                "Another complete game shutout. Your grandparents will be sorry they missed this one," Miles said. The two were almost identical now, barring the age difference and the shape of Arnold's head. Arnold was still two inches shorter than his father and a bit skinnier, but he was still hoping to grow.

                "Gerald and I were going to go get a bite to eat." Arnold had managed to pull away from his mom, who had been hugging him so tight she was making it very difficult to breathe. Every time Stella hugged Arnold it seemed as if she had not seen her son in six years, and after nearly seven years of being back with her son her habit remained the same. Again, Arnold did not mind at all, but, on the other hand, he liked to breathe. "Is that okay?" he asked politely.

                "Oh, Arnold, your grandma was wanting you to eat chili with the rest of the family. She was going to make it especially for us."

                Miles stared up at the clear blue sky. "Yes, Mom seemed to think it was going to snow, and we'd need something warm to eat for dinner."

                Arnold shook his head. It was almost seventy degrees today, but if he remember correctly, Grandma had been running around the house this morning screaming that she would never have enough time to finish her Groundhog Day shopping.

                "Arnold, go with Gerald. It's diffidently the better choice for your health," Miles said lowly.

                "Miles!" Stella cried.

                "What? Oh, let the boy go. It's just one night. There'll be other meals."

                Stella gave him her signature look, one that pained Arnold, but she caved. "All right. Well, we've got to get going, so tell Gerald good game for us, okay?"

                "No problem, Mom."

                "All right. But you be home early, you got it? It's a school night after all." She kissed him on the cheek. "Good-bye, honey."

                "Bye, Short Man," his dad said, patting him slightly on the back.

                "Bye. I'll be home early, I promise."

                Arnold ran over to Gerald and his family, all of whom seemed to be engaged in a very intense conversation, as Gerald liked to put it. He slowed down and approached them with caution. "Are you ready?" Arnold whispered, hiding behind Gerald.

                "Hell yeah. Mom, Arnold and I are leaving now."

                "Is that Arnold behind you?" Mrs. Johanssen asked.

                Arnold slowly walked around Gerald. "Hello."

                "Oh, Arnold, how are you today?"

                "Fine, tha—" he started, but Gerald interrupted him. "Sorry, Mom, but we have to go."

                "So soon? But Arnold just got here. I wanted to talk to him about the game," she said, smiling widely at the two boys.

                "And I wanted to ask Arnold's opinion on solar powered cars. See, than you're not using up gas or electricity. It's practically free energy," Mr. Johanssen said.

                "Unless it rains all the time," Jamie O said dryly. He was currently leaving in Seattle, and judging by his expression, he would much rather be there than at his kid brother's baseball game.

                Timberly had not said a thing. Now an eighth grader, she was staring up at Arnold with stars in her eyes. Arnold swallowed hard and avoided her gaze.

                "Sorry, Mom, Arnold and I have to go."

                Her face and everyone else's except Jamie O's fell. "Okay. Bye, Gerald. Good bye, Arnold," she said sadly. "We'll see you soon."

                "Bye, Mrs. Johanssen," Arnold said as Gerald pulled him away. "What are you in a hurry for?"

                "My family drives me crazy. You know that."

                Arnold shrugged. "They're not that bad." He was not lying. Comparing the Johanssens to Arnold's extended family at the boarding house, they were very easy to live with. Arnold smiled. No matter how crazy they act at times, he would not change them for a thing.

                "Are you crazy?" Gerald cried.

                "Hmmm, probably."

                Gerald rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just go."

                They walked across the parking lots and got in Gerald's car. "So, how's the 'rents?" he asked as he pulled out of the South Central High parking lot.

                "Fine, though I almost couldn't go. Mom gave the look."

                "Oh, the look."

                "Yeah."

                They were quiet for a while, leaving Arnold to his thoughts. Arnold's mother had a look that was all her own, and it nearly killed Arnold every time she gave it to him. Stella had a tendency to want to keep Arnold all to herself; he could not blame her since they had missed out on so many years together, but she had to remember that Gerald was like family to Arnold. He changed the subject to put the thought in the back of his mind. "So, Rosalie was at the game."

                "I know," Gerald said in a whiny tone.

                "And you didn't talk to her."

                "Arnold, I had to talk to the guys, and then Mom grabbed me. There was no time for Rosalie."

                "She won't be happy."

                "Well, that's too bad. We're not dating. We're just going to prom together."

                "Gerald, I don't understand. Rosalie's awesome. Why don't you just date her?"

                "Arnold, you're right, but you don't understand."

                Arnold stared at him. _How can I be right and still not understand?_

                "I can't restrict myself to only one girl."

                "Restrict. Good one. Then why are you going to prom with her?"

                "Because I figure if I have to make an appearance at the damn thing, I might as well have a great looking girl on my arm and one that won't bore the shit outta me." He pulled into the parking lot.

                "I'm glad you've put a lot of thought into this," Arnold said sarcastically as he got out of the car.

                "I have, and it works. Rosalie's just going to have to deal with it."

                "Right. Well, either way, we've got a more important issue to deal with."

                "What's that?"

                Arnold smirked. "Do I want my French fries with cheese or chili?"

                Gerald smiled. "Both, because at the Tenth Inning, Hillwood City's most famous baseball bar –"

                "And grill."

                "You can have whatever you want on your fries for only ninety-nine cents –"

                "Whenever South Central High's five straight conference winning team throws a shut out."

                "And since today my man Arnold, the south paw with the nastiest curve ball this side of the Rockies, threw one of those babies, we get the honor of putting whatever the hell we want on our fries!" Gerald cried as he opened the door. Several other members of their team were there, and so were a handful from other schools, but they were sitting on the family side. Players were only allowed to sit on the bar side if they had a shut out, won conference, or a post-season game. How the manager got away with having several minors in the bar was beyond them. Arnold supposed because he refused to serve them alcohol no matter how hard they begged. He personally did not think it was that bad to let minors sit in a bar, as long as you don't sell them drinks, but all Arnold really worried about when he ate there was what he was going to eat.

                "No, no, no, if it wasn't for the Bruins' slick handed centerfielder's Web Gem at the end of the sixth inning, all this would not be possible," Arnold said loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

                "Yeah, well, you know, I was just trying out a little Willie Mays/Andruw Jones thing out there. See if it works for me or not."

                "Oh, it does, ladies and gentlemen," Arnold began to explain to an invisible crowd. They were getting a bit carried away, but neither cared how ridiculous they looked at the moment. "Because Mr. Johanssen here had a great day at the plate. Three for three with two doubles, a run scored, and three, oh yes, I said three runs scored in the Bruins' victory tonight."

                "We're lucky we're actually good," Gerald said seriously as they sat down in a booth.

                "Damn straight."

                "Because otherwise we'd be extremely big-headed," he said.

                "Oh, don't worry boys, your ego's only about the size of Washington right now. When it's as big as California, then I'd begin to worry," their waitress said. Since they sat in the same booth every time, Leslie always waited on them, much to her dislike. She did not mind Arnold, but Gerald's constant attempts at flirting were very annoying. "We all ready heard the news before you boys threw your own parade in here."

                "Oh, Leslie, hon, we know how much you like it."

                "No, Gerald, I still won't go out with you."

                "Damn."

                "The usual?" she asked.

                "Yep," they said together.

                "Right. I'll let you two return to your glory days."

                Gerald stared at the very attractive young woman was she walked away with a dazed look on his face.

                "Gerald?"

                "Hmmm?"

                "Do you remember what Leslie is?"

                "Really, _really_ hot."

                "Well, yes, but Leslie's a ESOW."

                "Extremely sexy older woman."

                "Right. And do ESOWs date seventeen year-old boys?"

                "No."

                "Very good."

                "Be cool if she did, though."

                Arnold was about to reply when the door was thrown open, and an angry blonde sat down at the bar. "Large Pepsi, jumbo frank with everything, and a grand slam sundae," Helga snapped at Steve, the owner. She was good friends with his daughter and his family, so Helga was welcome at the actual bar while the few under twenty-one in the bar room had to be about three feet away.

                "The girls lost?" Gerald whispered since their booth was right behind her.

                "Possibly," Arnold said, watching her closely, but she said nothing else. Their food came, so Arnold and Gerald resumed general conversation while Helga ate in silence.

                "So, what happened?" Steve asked Helga after a few minutes.

                She played with her sundae. "Nothing."

                "Helga, you only order one of those when something bad happened."

                She scooped a lot of ice cream on her spoon and watched with mild interest as she tipped it and the contents slowly spilled back into the soupy mess. "We won. What could be wrong?"

                "Okay." He turned to wipe down other part of the counter.

                A few seconds later she quickly spat, "I just don't understand why coach doesn't play me."

                "Your first step is too slow, and you rush your throws," Arnold said automatically, immediately regretting opening his mouth for anything other than food.

                "What did you just say?" she asked coldly as she turned around.

                Gerald stopped eating. Arnold swallowed and put his hamburger down. "Your first step is too slow, and you rush your throws."

                "That's not true!" she cried defensively.

                "It is and you know it. You're fast and a smart base runner, which is good enough most of the time, but your first step is too slow when you try to steal, and that's why good catchers usually throw you out. And you don't take enough time to aim because you get flustered when someone tries to steal on you, which is a shame because you have a canon for an arm."

                She gave him a weird look before scoffing at him. "What do you know?" she muttered, and she returned to her food.

                The two boys ate in silence watching the baseball game on television until Gerald suddenly cried, "Shit!" and crawled underneath the table.

                "What are you doing?" Arnold hissed, blushing as all eyes turned to them, except Helga, who was ignoring them.

                "Hiding from Marlene."

                "Marlene?" Arnold could not remember Gerald dating or ever even talking about a Marlene.

                "Marlene. The one from Reagan High."

                "The one with the speech impediment?"

                "No, that was blind-date Jessica. Marlene was the psycho."

                "Oh. Psycho Marlene. Now I remember." He was lying, but he decided it was impossible to remember all the girls Gerald has gone out on a date with over the years. "Why was she a psycho again?"

                "She called me about fifty times a day and sent me poems about how her love for me was undying and she would kill herself, or me, if I didn't love her as much as she loved me."

                "Sounds like a keeper." Arnold swirled the spoon in his milkshake.

                Gerald slowly emerged. "Good. She's gone."

                "Did you ever call her back?"

                "What?" Gerald asked, taking a large bite of his hamburger.

                "Did you ever call her back when she called you?"

                "No. Why would I do that?"

                "You know, Gerald, if you would call them back they might not become psycho," Arnold said, eating a chili soaked fry.

                "Hey, you don't know what kind of pressure I'm under."

                Arnold rolled his eyes. "Obviously," he muttered.

                "So, speaking of ladies, how's the prom date hunt coming."

                Arnold groaned. "I don't understand it. Lila and I have so much in common, and we get along great, but if I'd ask her she'd still say no. I don't get it."

                "You don't have that 'oh so special something' she's lookin' for," Helga muttered.

                He knew words had been spoken many times before, by both Helga and Lila, and they would probably be spoken many times more. "What does that _mean_?" Arnold cried desperately.

                Helga turned around. "She wants the stuff that's in the movies. Lila's a born hopeless romantic, not unlike yourself, with emphasis on the hopeless part." She flicked an olive at Arnold, hitting him in the head. He did not seem to notice.

                "I'm movie-romance material, aren't I, Gerald?"

                Gerald nodded.

                "Well, evidently not enough because you're still flying solo."

                "Then what the heck am I supposed to do?" he asked.

                "I have no idea," Gerald said.

                "I could help you," Helga offered sweetly.

                Arnold choked on his milkshake. "Why would _you_ want to help _me_?"

                "Can't I do something purely out of the goodness of my heart?"

                Gerald snorted. "You don't have a heart."

                Helga shot him an icy glare. "I'd rather be heartless than rip the hearts out of innocent girls."

                Gerald's eyes blazed, but he said nothing.

                "What do you really want in return?" Arnold asked, watching her carefully.

                "Your soul," Gerald muttered.

                Helga ignored him. "I want to play. I'm good enough to start on our sorry-ass softball team, but my coach doesn't think so. She barely gives me the time of day. I'm sick and tired of warming the damn bench, so if the 'pride of South Central' could help me improve, then maybe I could."

                "You want me to help you with softball?"

                "Yeah. The two sports are close enough, and I'm sure the golden boy could handle anything."

                Arnold hesitated. "You're sure with your help she'll say yes?"

                "Please, Arnold, if we couldn't do it, what makes you think Helga G. Pataki can?" Gerald asked.

                "Because unlike a boy who has been chasing the same girl for over a year and another who can't get beyond the first date with anyone who isn't willing to jump in his pants, I understand girls, seeing how I am one."

                "You're not a girl! You're a soulless mass of flesh sent by an evil power to torture Arnold and me for the rest of our lives! " Gerald cried.

                "Hopefully I won't be anywhere near you in two years and all the years after that!" she shot back.

                "Guys –" Arnold said slowly. This happened every time Gerald and Helga were near each other for more than two minutes.

                "I UNDERSTAND GIRLS, especially sappy ones like Lila." Helga glared at Gerald, and if looks he would be six feet under right now. Arnold actually felt the temperature drop. Helga continued, regaining some of her composure. "I can manipulate her like that." Helga snapped her fingers.

                "Helga, I don't want to manipulate her. I want her to like me for me."

                "Isn't that sweet?"

                "Helga," he snapped, an edge to his voice.

                She shrugged. "I know, Arnoldo. She all ready likes you; she just needs a little push to say yes."

                "And you can help me give her that push?"

                "If you can help me get that starting spot."

                Arnold looked at Gerald. "Don't do it, man," he said.

                "Do we have a deal, Football Head?" she asked.

                Arnold looked back and forth between the two. Helga was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Gerald was merely shaking his head. He was afraid to trust and work with Helga pertaining to something so personal, but on the other hand, nothing else had worked, and he liked Lila so much . . . . An idea flashed in his head that would test how much Helga really wanted to do this.

                "Well?" she asked impatiently."

                Only if you stop calling me Football Head." He extended his hand.

                She stared at it, and after moments of deliberating, she grabbed it. "Deal," she said.

                "Ow," Arnold muttered when she released his hand. Helga had a very strong handshake, or she may have been purposely trying to break his fingers.

                She stood up and threw a couple bills on the counter. "Well, it was nice doing business with you." She smiled charmingly. "Good night, boys."

                Arnold watched her leave and turned to Gerald. "I shouldn't have done that, right?"

                "Right."

                "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

                "Probably."

                "And it will end badly?"

                "Most likely."

                Arnold sighed. It was going to be a long five weeks.

A/N: Oh yeah, Arnold's parents are alive in this one. I felt it would be happier, plus I think I there was a Jungle Movie, he would have found them, and Miles, Stella, Arnold, and Helga would have lived happily ever after, and we would finally know Arnold's last name. This song was only wishful thinking . . . . 

I'm working on "Where to Begin," I promise. It's just going a little slow. Updates will be coming soon, so be on the lookout. Until then, later days.


	3. The Odds and Ends of Foes and Friends

A/N: Thank you for waiting patiently…I won't bore you with all my time consuming activities. I'll just let you bask in the joy of an update.

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold. Or Jolly Ranchers for that matter. Now that would be a cool thing to own. ^_^

A Sure Thing

Chapter 3 – The Odds and Ends of Foes and Friends

~ Friday, April 11 ~

                Arnold chewed the end of his pencil as he tried to figure out a rather complicated, twelve step, chemistry lab problem. _Why did I take Chem II? _he wondered, suddenly feeling like throwing his chemistry book out a window. He was getting a grasp on it when suddenly Helga threw her book bag on the table and flopped down in the chair opposite him. "Do you mind?" he snapped. His head hurt bad enough without having to deal with her.

                "Not so much," she replied, popping a Jolly Rancher in her month.

                "I was just starting to understand this, and there you go messing it all up." He moved her bag and tried to reorganize his notes and homework.

                Helga picked up his homework and half-heartedly glanced at the devilish problem. ".3 M," she said quickly before flicking the wrapper, hitting Arnold between the eyes.

                Arnold grabbed the paper back and plugged the answer back into the equation. She was right. "Uh, thanks," he said awkwardly.

                "No problem," she said absently as she doodled in one of her notebooks.

                "Um, so what are you doing here?" he asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence. It was his study hall and he had gone to the library to get his homework done where it was quieter, but he was pretty sure she did not have study hall this period as well.

                "Oddly enough I came here to see you," she said without looking up.

                "Why?" he asked.

                "Well, for one thing, Señorita Vizquel was driving me muy loca, so I decided to cut it."

                "And how'd you do that?"

                "I faked a stomach cramp. Anyways, I am here to finalize our deal."

                Arnold sighed. "You know, Helga, I've been thinking . . . "

                "Arnoldo, from this point on, it is not your job to think. I'll do that for you."

                "Look, Helga, if you want me to help you, I will. You don't have to go through all this trouble."

                "And miss out on the fun, live, raw entertainment of watching you crash and burn with Lila Sawyer? Please, do you know how hard that kind of stuff is to come by nowadays?"

                He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and glared at her, clearly annoyed. "Do you ever just let somebody do something nice for you?"

                "No. That'd mean I'd owe them a favor somewhere down the road. I don't like to be in debt to anyone. I feel it's best just to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible." She unwrapped another Jolly Rancher and put it in her mouth. "Want one?"

                "No thank you. I just don't understand, Helga."

                "What's there to understand? It's candy, and it's good."

                He made a face. "I didn't mean that. Why do you want to help me when you don't like me and you hate Lila?"

                She lowered her eyes and began to roll the wrapper back and forth in her palm, saying nothing.

                "Helga?"

                Her brown eyes looked coldly up at him, clearly not wanting to tell him too much information, or any at all. _What's she afraid to tell me?_ he wondered. "Like I said, I hate owing someone a favor." Her lips parted from their straight line and moved into a wide smirk. "That and I was beginning to feel sorry for you. You've got to admit, Arnoldo, you can be rather desperate and pathetic."

                He sighed. _And I thought she might actually have an answer worth listening to._ "So, how exactly is this going to work?"

                This time she flicked it just as he finished speaking, nearly reaching her goal of shooting the wrapper into his mouth. "Well, today's the eleventh, right?"

                "Yeah."

                "So we have about five weeks until prom. You should actually have a date right now, but I'll get you there by at least two weeks before the dance." She looked at her calendar. "May first."

                May first was only twenty days away. A lump formed in Arnold's throat. "That's not even three weeks!"

                "So? It won't take that long." She glared at him. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

                "Well, I, um –"

                She snorted with laughter. "Well, I can see that you are not a boy of many words, so I would suggest being the strong, silent type."

                He glared at her. _Does she have to torture me every time she opens her mouth?_ "I can talk to her just fine."

                Helga raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

                "Yes."

                She raised an eyebrow. "So you can do this without my help?"

                He was feeling very aggravated with her. _I won't be able to survive three weeks with Helga breathing down my neck. It's time to end this before it gets too far. _"Easily."

                The bell rang. "Right," she said sarcastically. Helga watched him gather his stuff before grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door into a hallway that was now crowded with students.

                Arnold, surprised at what she was doing, noticed that she was holding onto him rather tightly, but he had a feeling she was not aware of it. It was almost as if she was afraid to let him go… 

                "All right, Casanova, prove me wrong!" Helga cried as she practically threw him away from her.

                Still wrapped up in his thoughts, the next thing Arnold saw was the row of black lockers just before he collided with it.  Not ready for such an impact, he crumpled to the floor, his shoulder throbbing with pain. "Ow."

                A loud explosion of high, annoying, giggles erupted above him.  Arnold looked up and to his horror a circle of girls was standing in front of him, one of them the object of his affections.  He leapt to his feet. "Uh," he stammered, unable to say anything with a fraction of intelligence.

                "Arnold, are you okay?" Lila asked while giving her friends looks that clearly meant cut it out.

                "Yeah, I just, uh, wanted to see what you were doing tonight," he said rubbing his neck nervously. _Though it probably looked like a desperate and pathetic attempt to get your attention. Damn you, Helga._

"Oh," she said, clearly surprised. "Well, I've this family thing to go to, but after I was going to go to a movie."

                "With us," Valerie Harris said enthusiastically. Arnold winced. Valerie had had a huge crush on him earlier in high school, but she reminded him of a hyper-active fan girl (which, technically, she was since she when to every baseball game freshman and sophomore year with large signs saying how number five was the greatest and other random stuff that embarrassed the crap out of him). "You can come with us if you like," she offered.

                "That's okay. I guess I'll talk to you later," he said facing Lila.

                "Okay. Bye, Arnold, and watch out for those lockers," she said smiling.

                His felt his face burn. "Right.  See ya."

                Arnold's eyes followed Lila as she left, and they eventually met a pair of large, mocking brown eyes. Helga was standing across the hall smirking at him.  He tore his eyes away from her and stalked off to his locker. 

                Helga at least had the decency to give him a few minutes to fume in his own anger, but she returned to his side just as he had expected her to.  " 'I guess I'll talk to you later.' Really, how lame was that?"

                "Well, I'm not used to talking to the girl I like after I've been shoved into a locker right in front of her. And her friends," he growled through gritted teeth.  He refused to look at her.

                "Well, now do you see you could use my help?"

                He turned to her. Her face blank, but her eyes were daring him to accept her challenge.  "What are your terms?"

"I'm glad you asked." She knelt down and opened her bag. Helga pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him.

                He took it and looked it over. Basically it was a contract stating that Helga would get Lila to go to the prom with Arnold if he helped her improve enough to gain a starting spot on the varsity volleyball team. Several rules were listed, including if he decided to go with someone else, she would not help him get that girl, but he would still be obligated to help Helga. His eyes narrowed. A lot of the rules were twisted into Helga's favor. "Is this really necessary?" he asked.

                She nodded.  Another contract was in her hands. "So what do you say, Football Head?"

                He grabbed the other paper and scribbled his signature on both. "You can't call me that until the terms are completely met." He smirked as he pointed to rule nine.

                Her mouth opened, but it quickly shut. "Fine." She snatched the papers out of his hands and signed her name. "See you Sunday at four," she said as she shoved one cop into his hands.

                "What?" he cried, completely confused.

                She sighed loudly. "Look at the back of the paper."

                Arnold turned it over. On the back was a list of dates that they were scheduled to practice together. His eyes skimmed to the bottom of the page. In fine print Helga had written _"If either persons should not participate on such days or notify the other that he/she will not be able to make it to the training session, the guilty party will have to face whatever punishment the other party sees fit."_  He looked up at her in disbelief. "What the heck is this?"

                "Something to make sure you don't cheat your way out of this. Remember, if you skip and don't tell me, I make you do whatever the hell I want you to."

                He shuddered at the thought. "Great. I'll be counting the minutes until then," he said sarcastically.  Helga shrugged and began to walk away.  Another thought hit him. "Hey, Pataki!" he yelled.

                Helga turned slowly. "Yes?" she asked in a sugary-sweet voice that reminded him of Lila, except it sounded very wrong coming out of Helga's mouth.

                "When are you going to work on my end of the deal?"

                "I just helped you."

                "How? By shoving me into the wall? I don't think that qualifies as helping, Helga. You might have screwed up my shoulder!"

                "Baby," she muttered.

                He glared at her.

                "Fine! I'll work on some things for next week. Until then," she whispered and blew him a kiss as she walked away.

                Arnold sighed. "She's got to be completely insane."

                "Did you just figure that out?" Gerald asked, leaning against the wall. "Is it really worth what you are going to have to go through?"

                Arnold pulled out a picture of Lila and himself at a basketball game. She had given it to him a while ago and he had kept it tucked away in the back of the locker. "I hope so."

¤~¤~¤

                Helga grimly stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her golden hair was now dark and fell limply on her thin shoulders. Dark circles surrounded her dark brown eyes, which, at the moment, were flat and without any emotion at all.

                Her eyes narrowed. If she looked like either of her parents, who she supposed were relatively attractive, she might have had a chance to look even slightly pretty. But as it was, she was almost an even combination of Bob and Miriam; for every feature she had of her father's she had one of her mother's. All the rest seemed to blend together.  Her sister, however, closely resembled her mother and was a goddess. _Just another reason to hate Olga_, she thought as her eyes wandered to a picture frame on the vanity. It was taken at Olga's college graduation nearly five years ago. Bob and Miriam were hovering over Olga while Helga stood awkwardly off to the side. Helga sighed. Yes, that had been Olga's day, but it seemed everyday was Olga's day.

                _Ingrid must have picked it up_, she thought, giving the photo one last look before turning it over. The only thing that kept Helga from throwing it off the balcony was the threat of possibly hurting someone below, that and also Ingrid's insipid nagging that family was the most important thing the in world. Helga could not force herself to be angry with her, seeing how Ingrid's family lived a lifetime away. Ingrid was the Patakis' housekeeper, and for the most part she saw everything that happened. _And yet she still insists I try and make nice with Olga_, Helga thought darkly. _I don't think hell has frozen over yet._

Helga growled and turned harshly from the mirror to her closet — er, "walk-in closet." Roughly the size of a medium-sized bedroom, it was nearly impossible to find anything in it. She swiftly grabbed an old sweatshirt and jeans. Once she was dressed she quickly pulled her damp hair into a ponytail, stuffed her slightly oversized feet into a pair of slippers, and slowly descended downstairs to await her horrible fate.

                Sunlight poured into the living room of the penthouse's oversized windows that overlooked the city and blinded Helga's eyes as she continued to the kitchen to check the answering machine (Ingrid said she was too busy to answer it; Helga guessed she just did not want to answer it earlier). There were six.  The first four were from Alex Darren, and boy who was madly in love with Helga's disinterested older sister.

                That was another thing that bothered Helga. Olga had men practically throwing themselves at her, but she had barely dated anyone. Her excuse in school was that she needed to study, but now Helga supposed she just liked to toy with them (which may have been her aim all along).

                The fifth was the one Helga was waiting for from Miriam.

                _"Helga, Helga honey, we will be home at a quarter to seven _(it was now seven after)._ Olga's already taken care of dinner so don't worry about that _(Helga's lips twisted into a smile as the smell of overcooked salmon began to fill the air).  _Um, I think that is it. Oh, the Sawyers and your father should be at home by 7:30. Bye, Olga!" (voices were murmuring in the background) "Oops! Sorry. **You're** here with me! Olga says shalom, Helga _(because we are Hebrew! Helga thought). _Kiss kiss!"_

The last message was from another one of Olga's lame suitors, and Helga quickly deleted all the messages as Olga and Miriam loudly entered the apartment.

                "Baby sister, look hat we got!" Olga cried far too loudly for Helga' temper. She ran into the kitchen, Miriam on her heels.

                "Why don't I wait and you can surprise me?" Helga asked grimly, leaving her mother and sister as she moved into the living room. Olga chirped happily at the thought of surprising Helga, but Miriam followed Helga and began to tidy the room while Helga flopped onto the sofa to read her newest issue of _Alternative Press_.

                Miriam sighed heavily as she tried to organize the mess of papers that was the coffee table.  "Why didn't Ingrid clean this up? Where is that girl?"

                "She does have a life outside of this place. She went home." Helga took a swift look at the mess and quickly understood what happened.  "Bob messed everything up when he was looking for his papers for the board meeting He probably stopped home after Ingrid left." She turned a page while Miriam computed the information. "Speaking of my _dear_ father, when's he coming home?"

                Miriam looked at the clock. "Twenty minutes. He's bringing the Sawyers home for dinner."

                "Damn it," Helga muttered. So the priss was coming over.

                "Language, Helga," Miriam said lackadaisically as she walked to the kitchen. Both parents always seemed to remember her name when she did something wrong.

                _Great. Lila's coming._ Helga's eyes narrowed. How was it that the person she loathed the most was the daughter of one of her father's most trusted employees?

                _Lila_ was a picture perfect daughter, just like Olga. _Lila_ was Olga's lil' sis. _Lila_ was what Bob wanted Helga to be. 

                And Lila was whom Arnold wanted.

                Helga's eyes closed slowly.  If Lila were coming over, Arnold would get wind of it eventually. He seemed to find out everything about that girl; it was creepy in a way. He would find out that Lila was at Helga's and that Helga did nothing to get the wheels turning for him. _I at least wanted to have one weekend alone with him._ She opened her eyes as she heard voices in the foyer. _But that would be asking far too much._

                "Helga, honey, your father's home!" Miriam called.

                _Do you think I give a damn?_ Helga reluctantly stood up and met everyone.  Lila, her father, and her stepmother were hugging Miriam and Olga.  Helga leaned up against the wall and was thankful that she had not eaten yet, because if she had she would not have had the strength to keep her food down.

                "Helga, why aren't you dressed for dinner?" was the first thing that Bob said to this youngest daughter.

                "I'm not running around naked, am I?" she snapped.

                "I think Helga looks darling," Ellen said. "Very cozy."

                Helga's eyes narrowed and she managed to civilly spit out, "Thank you." Ellen looked remarkably like her stepdaughter, and acted just the same. Both reminded Helga of  Barbie dolls, a mass of wasted, feigned perfection that Helga would rather rip their heads off than spend five minutes with.  Ellen, however, was far more manipulative than Lila, but that was just because Lila had no brains, at least when it came to people. Ellen was well aware of how little Helga thought of her stepdaughter, but she never did anything about it because she was trying to help her husband along in the company, just as she had for the past seven years. Helga's insides ran cold as she thought of how since Mr. Sawyer became employed at Big Bob's Beeper Emporium (which now was an actual empire), Lila had been a central figure in her life, much to Helga's dismay, and Ellen had been along for the ride.

                "Helga! ¡Buenas noches!" Lila cried happily.

                "Hola," Helga replied simply. Lila was in Helga's Spanish class, and seemed to think that Helga loved to speak in Spanish with her. Helga was just angry that she had to listen to Lila's whiny voice decked out with a fake accent.

                Dinner went quite well. Helga was used to being compared to Lila by Ellen, Miriam, and Bob, so that did not faze her in the least bit. Olga made a big deal over Lila's new hair cut ("That is the cutest hair cut I've ever seen!" Never mind the fact that Helga's hair looked identical to Lila's chin-length locks last summer), and Helga spent the entire dinner staring at her plate and humming "Battle Hymn of the Republic." For as much attention as Helga was getting, she could have been dancing on top of the table like a monkey with a machete in one hand and a bright pink football helmet on her head and everyone would still ignore her. 

                "Can I be excused?" she asked loudly, but the reaction around the table was minimal.

                "Sure, sweetie," Miriam replied.

                Helga glared at her mother before she left the table. Miriam had drunk only a few glasses of wine, but she knew that when Helga came home her mother would most likely be passed out on the coach in the living room. _So much for the glamorous life,_ she thought as she walked up the stairs to her room.

                At quarter to ten, Helga was ready to get out.  Donning her favorite Ramones t-shirt and jeans, Helga bounced downstairs and cried, "I'm leaving! I'll be back before two!" as she reached for the doorknob.

                "Wait girl!" Bob yelled from the living room.

                Helga slowly walked into the room. Olga and Lila were engrossed in conversation about the cruelty of petting zoos, Ellen was telling a joke to a clearly drunk Miriam, and Mark, Lila's dad, was politely smiling at Bob. Helga had a feeling Mark hated her father, but she'd never cared enough to look too far into the matter. "What?" she snapped.

                "Where are you going?"

                _So now you want to act like a model parent. Well, I'm not going to act like a model daughter. _"Out. Good-bye." She turned to leave.

                "Hey now, little lady!" he yelled. "That's not a sufficient answer."

                "I'm going to a club downtown."

                "Oh, I know! I have a great idea!" Ellen cried loudly.

                _You are going to stick your head in a blender?_ "What?" Helga snapped. All patience was gone.

                "You can take Lila with you. She's going to the movies with a few friends. Why don't you go with them?"

                Helga's temper flared. What the hell was she trying to pull? "That's all right," she said through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't want to _impose_," she finished, glaring at Ellen coldly.

                Ellen got the hint, but she did not back down. "Well, since you are going into town anyways, can you drop Lila off for us? As a personal favor to Mark, Lila, and me?"

                "That's a wonderful idea!" Miriam cried.

                "Mom! I'm in a hurry! I don't have time!"

                "You'll make time!" Bob roared.

                Helga glared at all of them, but she knew the battle was lost. "If you want a ride, I'm leaving now," she said to Lila and left the penthouse.

                Five minutes later, Helga pulled out and headed downtown. "I have to pick up a friend first."

                "Oh," Lila replied as if she never realized Helga had her own friends.

                "So, prom's coming up," Helga spat out after a long period of silence.

                "Oh, yes. Ellen just bought me a dress. It's ivory and black with –"

                "That's nice," Helga cut her off, "but I was wondering who you were going with or were hoping to go with."

                "Oh, I haven't really thought about it. I mean, who would want to go with me?"

                Lila's false humility was enough to make Helga want to choke her. She knew damn well how crazy Arnold was about her. Helga swallowed hard, completely disgusted at what she was about to do. "Well, I think you would look cute with Arnold," she said, her voice shaking at the end.

                "Arnold?" she repeated as if she had never thought of the two of them as a couple.

                "Sure," Helga replied. Her knuckles were turning white as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Loads of people think so."

                "Hmmm." Lila stared out the window, deep in thought.

                _This better work,_ Helga thought as she pulled the car in front of the McGavin household. _And I better be able to survive it to enjoy my reward_. She honked the horn and a few seconds later a young girl walked out. Mickey McGavin looked relatively happy until she spotted the girl in the passenger's side of Helga's car.  Her face twisted as if she had dung under her nose, and she kept the face as she climbed into the backseat.

                "Hey, Mick," Helga said, giving her an it's-not-my-idea-or-fault look.

                Mickey, who was never one to be subtle, or polite for that matter, greeted the two by snapping, "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

                "Oh, it's ever so nice to see you too, Mickey," Lila said sarcastically.

                Helga shot her a funny look. _Maybe there is something of a real person in her. _She shook her head. _No, she just hates Mick. _"I just have to drop her off at the movies. Then we can go to American Rival."

                "Thank God," Mickey said as she lit a cigarette. "I wasn't exactly looking forward to spending a night with Miss Priss, queen of the prudes." She took a long puff and blew smoke rings at the back of Lila's head. "I'd rather shove needles in my eyes."

                "Like I'd want to hang around you either," Lila snapped. Clearly she hated to be around anyone who so openly despised her. "Do you have to smoke that in here?"

                "Awe, the princess doesn't like the smoke," Mickey said in a mock baby tone. "Too bad it's Helga's car, and she could care less."

                Lila made a face, and Helga smiled. Served her right for coming along in the first place.

                Five minutes of silence followed. Helga pulled the car in front of the cinema. Lila's friends' jaws dropped as they watched her emerge from Helga's car.

                "Thank you for the ride, Helga. And I'll think about what you said," Lila said sweetly as she left.

                Mickey moved into the front seat. "Thank God she's gone. And what did you say to her?"

                "Tie a rock to your foot and jump off James's Pier."

                "Nice."

                Helga shrugged and drove to American Rival, a club in downtown Hillwood City that specialized in rock of any kind, and allowed local garage bands to show off their talents. It was easily Helga's favorite place in the world.

                The two walked in, and amazingly, in such a crowded space, Helga easily picked out a cornflower-haired boy sitting at a table with three other boys. "Found 'em, Mick!" she called over the house-band's cover of Andrew W. K.'s "She is Beautiful." She walked up behind the football-headed boy and whispered in his ear, "Don't choke like you did last time."

                Arnold's head snapped around, and he glared at her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

                "Hey! That's no way to treat a lady!" Quincy Maddux yelled at Arnold. He grabbed Helga around the waist and pulled her to his side. "Helga's been to nearly every show. She's our good luck charm."

                "And you just want to get Helga to swap some spit with you," Mickey said.

                The group laughed, save Arnold.

                "Lighten up, man. You'll be fine," Kyle Rosdale said as he twirled a drumstick in his right hand while he messed up his dusty blond hair with his left.

                "Easy for you to day," Arnold snapped as he practiced cords on his guitar. "And Helga's no lady."

                "Would you give it a rest?" Corbin Jeffries said without looking up before Helga could open her mouth. "I'm trying to write a song here."

                Helga and Arnold's eyes met briefly before they both turned away. Helga sighed. Corbin had moved to Hillwood six years pervious, and because he was Helga and Arnold's close friend, he had seen every fight between the two since then. In fact, he was one of the few who knew Helga's feelings for Arnold. "Sorry," she said nonchalantly.

                "Sure you are," he said sarcastically. He smiled at her and handed the napkin he had been scribbling on. "Here, what do you think?"

                Helga skimmed the lyrics and handed it back to him. "Needs work."

                "Doesn't it always?" He stuffed the paper in his back pocket.

                Helga laughed softly and caught Arnold staring at her with a strange expression on his face. She frowned. "What?" she asked as she pushed herself away from Quin who was in the middle of a conversation with Mickey and Kyle.

                He blinked a couple of times. "Oh, uh, so, how was your dinner with Lila?"

                She raised an eyebrow in effort to look like she could not care less, but her insides ran cold and her heart filled with sadness. "How'd you know she was over?"

                He shrugged. "I have my sources."

                "You know, Arnoldo, I feel I should tell you stalking is illegal."

                He smirked. "That's why I got you to do it for me."

                She rolled her eyes.

                "So, any progress?" he asked hopefully.

                "You are really pathetic, you know that?" she snapped. She was alone with him (well, as alone as you could get in a crowded club), and all he could think about was _her_. "Miracles don't happen over night."

                "So you didn't do anything? Helga!"

                "Don't piss your pants. Lordy! I did some stuff, but do we have to talk about that now?"

                His face brightened, and he dropped the subject.

                Helga leaned against Quin's chair, her good mood quickly disappearing. _This will take time,_ she thought. _That usually means it will be hard._

                Arnold noticed Helga's change in mood. "You okay?"

                She looked at him through eyes that did not seem to be her own. "Yeah, I'm fine."

                He continued to stare at her, but a man suddenly popped up behind her and said, "Called Strike Three, you're up in five."

                "Let's go, guys," Corbin said as he got up from the table.

                "Enjoy the show, ladies," Quin said as he left, Kyle pushing him away from Helga and Mickey.

                "Well, I got to go," Arnold said, standing up.

                "Don't mess up this time, Hair Boy."

                "Right," he said as he walked away, not listening to what she was saying as nervousness took over.

                Helga watched the boys play. Mickey kept talking about how Corbin sounded a lot better now that he was over his cold, but Helga could only stare at Arnold. He was playing flawlessly as if something had awoken in him to give him more confidence. Helga clasped a hand to the locket on her chest. _I swear you will realize that you have feelings for me, Arnold, and that I'm really not that bad. I'll make you see the real me, even if I have to lose you._

A/N:  I know that Mr. Sawyer has no first name in the series. It's just easier if he has a first name, so I gave him one. Briefly thought about Tom, but I decided to put a little effort into it. Anyways, I'll be updating as soon as I can, but "Where to Begin" will probably be updated first. Oh yes, buy Something Corporate's new cd, _North._ Seriously, it is amazing. They are one of the best little-known bands out there, so check 'em out. Later days.


	4. The Hot Corner

A/N: Not much to say today… really not much to say any day… Oh yea, wait, nope, still nothing. Oh, I hope they bring Cowboy Bebop back quickly so I can re-record the last two sessions. I messed them up when I re-recorded a few episodes (and realized I missed one the first time around). In my opinion, Bebop is the best thing to have ever been on Adult Swim, and without it the whole thing is lacking a little something, don't you agree?

Disclaimer – I do not own Hey Arnold!, but I do own South Park Season One DVD, and that makes me VERY happy.

A Sure Thing

Chapter 4 – The Hot Corner

~ Sunday, April 13 ~

"You're still swinging too early!"

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are. Wait for the ball."

"Well, pitch it a little faster!"

Arnold gritted his teeth. It was Helga and his first training session together, and it was going horribly. Helga had done nothing but complain about his methods for helping her and had had a major problem accepting constructive criticism. Well, everyone has a breaking point, and after nearly three hours of listening to Helga G. Pataki bitch and whine while he worked his ass off, Arnold had reached his. He reached back and threw the ball as hard as he could, aiming for about six inches right of Helga's head.

She hit the dirt, the ball barely missing her. Arnold calmly grabbed another softball out of the bucket and tossed it in the air. 

Helga finally lifted her head to glare at him, but Arnold could tell she was surprised. "You asshole! What the hell was that?"

He continued to toss the ball up. "Sorry, it slipped."

"Sorry my ass," she said as she stood up. "You're supposed to throw _underhand_, Hair Boy! Not show me your best Roger Clemons impression!"

He shrugged. "Will ya get up? It's not like it was going to hit you anyways."

"Puh-lease! If I wouldn't've ducked, that would have hit me square in the jaw."

"It'd have been at least two inches away from you! You wouldn't have been hit! Besides, you need to practice taking one for the team." He laughed. "Your head's hard enough to take any blow."

"I swear to it if you insult me again I'll kill you," she hissed, her fists clinched.

"Will you get back in the box? It's gettin' hot out here."

"Not until you apologize."

_Me apologize? After all the crap she has ever said and done to me, she wants me to apologize for one little thing? _"In your dreams, Helga!" he snapped. His patience was growing thin.

She stared at him for a few moments, and Arnold was almost certain she was going to charge the mound any second now. Disgusted, she threw the bat down. "Screw this, I'm done for today. See ya tomorrow, Foot–, uh, Arnoldo."

_Oh no, she's not calling the shots out here. This is **my**__turf. _He walked towards her. "Fine, you can leave."

She stared at him. "Good. I'm leaving now." She turned and began to walk away.

He grabbed her arm. "After you beat me in a sprint."

She turned to face him. "What?"

"Well, since you didn't show _any_ signs of improvement when we worked on getting a quicker jump earlier," Helga rolled her eyes. "You'll have to have some speed if you want to be able to run the base paths." He smirked at her as he led her back to home plate. "When you beat me to first base, you can go."

She frowned. "That's not fair! Your legs are longer than mine."

"Helga, I'm like three inches taller than you."

"So, that's three more inches for you, meaning longer strides. It's not fair."

"God, will you just shut up and do this? Stop being so difficult!"

She looked genuinely hurt, and Arnold immediately felt bad for yelling at her. "Look, you only have to beat me once. Then you can go."

Helga stared at him. "Fine. Let's go!" she cried as she took off.

_Damn it,_ he thought as he raced after her, beating her by a step. "I'm not fair?" he snapped at her. She looked away from him, clearly upset at herself for losing. "_I'll_ say when we go, understand?" He wanted for her to catch her breath and get set. "Go!" he cried, and this time he beat Helga by several steps.

They continued this process of sprinting, Arnold winning, and Helga complaining many, many times. "Please, can we just stop?" Helga pleaded between gasps.

Arnold was tired as well, but he was not ready to back down to her. "No," he said softly. He was having difficulty talking as well. "You have to beat me first."

She groaned loudly. "Fine, let's go."

After about ten more sprints, Arnold went against his principles and let up, allowing Helga to beat him by a very slim margin. He was just too tired to run anymore, and she looked completely exhausted. Helga collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. Judging by the expression on her face, she knew what he had done. She stood up and muttered something that sounded that sounded quite a bit like "asshole," but he could not be sure and chose to ignore it.

Arnold wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Well, that was certainly fun. When do we get to do this again?"

"Wednesday."

"Great," he said as he began to pick up the softballs that were scattered around the diamond. Helga followed in suit.

"So, what did you tell Lila on Friday?" he finally asked as Helga dropped the balls into the bucket and began to carry them to her car. Arnold picked up the bat and their gloves.

"What? Oh, I just sorta implanted the idea of you two in her head."

Arnold's face lit up. "Oh. What did she say?"

"Um," Helga bit her lip. "I think she said she had never thought of you two as a couple. It seems we have a lot of work to do."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked as he loaded everything into Helga's trunk.

"Nope. Don't worry, we'll start working on making you less pathetic tomorrow." She smirked as she got in her car. "See ya, Arnie!" she cried as she sped off.

Arnold felt like throwing up. "Why, why out of the millions of girls does Helga have to be the one who can help me?" he cried to no one. Life just seemed to enjoy kicking him at every opportunity, and Helga generally joined in the fun, making things much, much worse.

He walked back to Sunset Arms very tired and very sore. He yawned loudly as he opened the door and waited for the flood of animals to leave the building.

"Hey, Arnold!" Miles cried as Arnold entered the kitchen. "How was the training session?"

"Awful," he said as he took a long drink of water. "She's insufferable."

"Who's insufferable?" Stella asked as she entered carrying several dirty dishes.

"Helga," Arnold and Miles said together. "Mr. Hyunh find you in the hallway again?" Miles asked as Stella dropped the dishes into the sink.

"Who else?" She looked thoughtful. "Helga Pataki?"

"The one and only," Arnold said as he grabbed a banana.

"I wouldn't say she's insufferable." Stella filled the sink with hot water. "A little difficult, perhaps, but you can't blame her for that. I mean, Miriam and Bob were never the easiest to get along with. However, I must say every time I've spoken to her she was polite and interesting."

Miles returned to his crossword. "I have to agree with your mother, Arnold."

"Well, sure, she's nice to you. And I suppose she has her moments when she's okay, but ask Grandpa about her. He'll agree with me."

"And your grandmother will demand to have tea with Eleanor Roosevelt." Miles shook his head.

"Well, I think it's nice you are helping her," Stella said as she handed Arnold a dishrag. "And now you can help me by doing Mr. Hyunh's dishes."

Arnold took it and went to the sink, feeling a little shameful. His parents did not know exactly why he was helping Helga.

"Where are you going?" Miles asked.

"I'm going to go clean his tile grout in his kitchen. And I could use your help," she said sternly as Miles tried to hide behind the newspaper.

"All right. We'll be in Mr. Hyunh's room if you need us, Arnold," Miles said, and the two left, Miles complaining about having to help and Stella telling him to be quiet.

Arnold sighed as he scrubbed. _I suppose Helga's not all that bad. But she's bad enough._

¤~¤~¤

~ Monday, April 14 ~

"I can't believe you are doing this."

"You and me both. I mean, I get a short practice today and what do I have to do the rest of the day? Go to the mall with Princess Prissy-Pants to shop for Mother's Day gifts," Helga snapped into the cell phone as she waited for the light to turn green. "I can't even remember the last time I actually put thought into Miriam's gift. I normally just pick up some flowers and chocolate, if I remember at all."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Corbin said as he strummed his guitar.

"Yeah, well, it's my choice, and could you not do that when I'm talking to you?"

"Sorry. But really, Helga, what are you trying to pull?"

"I'm not trying to pull anything!"

"You're trying to manipulate Arnold so he'll fall in love with you."

"I'm not trying to manipulate him!" she yelled into the phone. "I'm just going to get him to realize that he's liked me all along."

Corbin sighed. "Helga, I'm not sure if it's such a good idea. I mean, this could all blow up in your face."

"Cory, I'm sick of going on like this. I'm desperate." She sighed. "It's either all or nothing. Besides, I don't even really have to do it. I just have to _act_ like I'm making an effort to get the two together."

"And you think Arnold's going to just wait around without any results?"

"I can handle this. Trust me."

He said nothing.

"Phoebe thinks it's a good idea. I told her about it last night."

"Helga, I know Phoebe better than that. She's probably just trying to keep you positive. She probably would agree with me." He paused. "How is she?"

"Fine. She says the weather's good." Helga swallowed hard. "I can't believe she's in Kentucky."

"Maybe it's better for her that she's not here."

"Probably."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Helga laughed. "Me neither. You know, you could help me out a little bit. You are his bandmate."

"No."

"No?" Helga was floored. "Why the hell not?"

"Because, Helga, Arnold needs to realize how he feels about you on his own. However," he paused. "If you really want to, I'll tell you what he says about the situation, if he says anything."

Helga's heart swelled. "You're serious?"

"Yeah." He strummed the guitar again. "But you have to understand, I won't lie to you. If you ask and he said something that will hurt you, I've got to tell you that."

"Don't worry. I can handle it. Besides, if all goes well he won't have anything bad to say about me."

"Right, Helga. Well, I got to go. Arnold and the rest of them will be over any minute now. I'll don't think he'd like it much if he found out I was plotting with you. See ya."

"Later hater."

Helga had just hung up as she pulled up in front of the Sawyers' townhouse. Helga sighed. _I won't kill her. I won't kill her. I won't kill her._ She climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. To her horror, Ellen answered the door. _But Ellen's fair game. No, no, that's bad too!_

"Helga! It's so nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Helga spat sweetly, which came out as sarcastic as Ellen's comment. Ellen loathed Helga and the feeling was more than mutual. "Is Lila ready to go?" she asked, honey dripping from her words.

"I'll go get her. Won't you come in?"

"Thank you." Helga stood just inside the door, not wanting to go any further into enemy territory. The house was decorated ultra-modern and was filled with pictures of Lila. _A Lila shrine. I think I'm going to be sick._

"Helga!" Lila cried as she entered the room.

_Oh, yes, there it is! Don't throw up, don't throw up, you are stronger than this._ Arnold's face entered her mind. _I'm so stronger than this. _"Ready to go?"

"Mmm-hmm. Bye, Ellen!"

"Good-bye, girls. Be safe," Ellen said as the two left.

"Oh, Helga, I'm so happy you are coming with me. I love hanging out with you, and you know Ellen almost as well as I do, so I just know you will be able to help me find the prefect gift for her," Lila cooed as they got into Helga's car. "And I know I can help you do the same for your mother's gift."

"Right." _I won't kill her. I won't kill her. I won't kill her._

¤~¤~¤

"She has two arms to hold me and four legs to wrap around me. She's not your typical girlfriend. She's my alien!" Kyle sang at the top of his lungs. He started banging on the drums, playing them heavier than they were in the song.

"Kyle, will you shut it," Corbin yelled. "You sound like a dying duck. Which, ironically, Pierre sounds like at times."

"It's got to be a Canadian duck."

"Would you shut up about the Canadian crap?"

"C'mon, they can rock in two different languages."

"Right. Like you can really punk out in French."

Arnold ignored the two and practiced his cords while staring intently out the window of the loft above Corbin's garage.

"Where the hell is Quin?" Corbin yelled.

Arnold glanced at him. He was sitting on the floor with a pile of papers in his hands. Something must have set him off, because Corbin was normally rather relaxed and laid back. Then again, he did have a tendency to become positively eccentric when it came to the band.

"He's probably still at practice." Kyle whistled. "Those boys got their asses handed to them on Saturday. Creighton High School slaughtered them in both games of the double-header."

"Was he pitching?" Arnold asked.

"The second game he did." Kyle twirled a drumstick in his hand. "Poor bastard."

Arnold returned to the window. Corbin lived next to Helga's old house, and from here he could see Helga's old bedroom window. "Hey Cor?"

"Hmm?" he asked, clearly focusing on the song in front of him.

"Where's Helga living at now?"

Corbin's head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"I know she moved, but she never told me where."

"Arnold, she moved three years ago, and you still don't know where she lives now?"

"No. I mean, it's not like we talk all the time. Well, we will now, but before then…"

Corbin gave him a weird look before returning to his work. "Look, you ask her. Helga's not to proud of it, so if you want to know you can hear it from her."

"Speaking of our favorite little hellion, how was the practice yesterday?" Kyle asked.

"Ugh. Horrible." Arnold sighed. "She's completely unbearable when she wants to be, and yesterday she felt like giving me hell." He shook his head. "I try to help her, but she won't let me. She just argues and makes it ten times more difficult."

"That's Helga for ya," Kyle said before going into a mini-solo. "Ya gotta love her, though," he said when he finished.

"That's a matter of opinion," Arnold muttered.

Corbin said nothing.

"Give her half a chance, Arnold. She'll surprise you. Trust me," Kyle said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I couldn't stand one of my closest friends when I first met her. I thought she was the biggest bitch and goody-goody this world has ever seen. But I went to a party where she needed a ride home because her then-boyfriend was passed out and had been acting like dick to her. She lives near me, so I gave her a lift. We got to talking, and it turned out her favorite band is The Strokes. We totally clicked from then on, and now I can't image things without her."

"Excuse me while I throw up," Quin said from the doorway. "Seriously, dude, grow some balls and never talk like that again."

"'Bout time you showed up," Corbin said as Kyle flipped Quin off. "Let's go, the new song starting from the chorus."

"Can ya give me a sec? I just got here." He gave Arnold a high-five greeting. "Dude, don't listen to a damn thing Kyle says."

"That's cause you want Helga all to yourself. Thank God she's got better taste than you," Kyle said.

"Can we just practice? Battle of the Bands is coming up and –"Corbin started.

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Arnold reached into his pocket. "Gerald gave me this today."

"What's that?" 

Arnold handed the form to Corbin. "It's the entry form."

"How the hell could you forget about that?" Kyle snapped.

"Cause he's worrying about his love-life," Quin said. "I can't believe you are using Helga to get that Lila chick to date you."

"I'm not using Helga. We have a deal. I help her, she helps me. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Shut up, Arnold. We don't care right now," Corbin retorted. "Okay, it says here that Battle of the Bands is May 24. That means we have barely more than a month to get ready for the biggest show of the year, so what are we standing around for? New song, from the chorus."

Arnold got set and began to play as Kyle banged on the drums and Corbin belted out, "Hey Dad, why don't you listen to me? I can't be the perfect son you are wanting me to be. Hey Mom, you gotta listen to me. Thank you for all you've done, but this is a battle that can't be won. You gotta let me go."

Quin jumped in with the bass, and Arnold's thoughts melted from Helga and Lila to his cords, but they remained in the back of his mind.

¤~¤~¤

Helga's feet throbbed, and she tried for the seven hundred and thirteenth time to ignore her throbbing headache. She had been reminded of how much she hated shopping within the first five minutes of their arrival, she quickly realized that shopping with Lila was a lot like hitting your head repeatedly with a sledgehammer, except you don't pass out with her, no matter how much you pray for death.

"Ooh, Helga, look at this? Isn't it darling?"

Helga stared at the crystal figurine of a mother and a daughter to which Lila was referring. _Okay, so Lila likes the colors green and purple, her favorite singers are John Mayer and Jessica Simpson, she wants to spend her honeymoon in Paris, she aims to be a veterinarian, and she likes sparkly things like diamonds and crystal. _Helga sighed. _Boy, this girl is real exciting and original. _"Oh, it's really nice, Lila, and I'm sure Miriam would love it, but it's just not special enough."

Lila's eyes widened, and she nodded."I see your point, and I totally agree with you. What was I thinking?"

_Not much is my bet. _She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, Lila, we'll keep looking."

"Helga, you keep asking about me and what I'm interested in. That's so unselfish of you, but I really want to get to know you better, too," Lila said as they walked.

_Great._ "Oh, I don't really like to talk about myself."

"Oh, but please do! I mean, I know your parents and Olga so well, but I just feel like we've never connected, and I hate that feeling."

_Funny, that's what keeps me going some days, the fact that I don't have you following me around like a lost little puppy and worshiping the ground I walk on. _"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lila. Really, it's okay," Helga said dully as they entered yet another jewelry store.

"No, it's not. So," she bit her lip as she thought carefully. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Okay. Favorite number?"

"Ten."

"Favorite band?"

"Something Corporate."

"Who?"

"Look, Lila, it doesn't matter, okay? You can't get to know a person by simply asking them questions about their favorite things. You have to be around them and experience for yourself."

"Oh."

Helga sighed heavily and looked in the case. "Hey, Lila?"

"Yes, Helga?"

"Didn't you and Ellen go to Japan last summer?"

"Yes. We toured all of Honshu. Oh Helga, Mount Fiji is the most amazing site in the world –"

"Right. Just look at this. It's a brooch with sakura blossoms on it."

Lila bent over the counter to look at the glittering cherry blossoms. "Oh, Helga, it's beautiful. She'll love it."

_It's just what Ellen needs,_ Helga thought as Lila purchased the brooch, _another material possession. I guess this has a little bit of thought and meaning behind it, but it's still just an expensive piece of waste that she can show off to look more impressive and intimidating. _She sighed. _I hate rich people._ Another thought filled her head. _And I hate being one of them._

Lila clapped her hands. "Oh happiness! She'll love it. I'm ever so sure of it!" Lila hugged the bag.

Helga watched with little interest. This trip was verifying everything she had ever thought about Lila or called her. _She's a child. That's all._ Her lip curled. It certainly explained why Arnold liked her so much. _She's so innocent. He's seen and felt far too much, so that's what he wants, something that's devoid of any bad thought or completely horrible memory, something that seems to be without pain. She can't feel anything real, so if he's with her, he can't either._

"C'mon, Helga, we need to go find Miriam something." Lila grabbed Helga's hand and pulled her out of the store and into a department store.

Helga yawned. "That's okay, Lila. I'm kinda tired. Why don't we head home?"

However, Lila was not listening to Helga. She was squealing at the top of her lungs. "Ooh! Helga look! Prom dresses!"

Sure enough, the department nearest to the entrance was the juniors' section, and it was filled with fluffy, frilly dresses of every color. It did not make Helga excited; it just made her want to eat sherbet.

"Oh, Helga, look at this one!" Lila cried as she pulled out a pale pink Cinderella dress. "I'm going to go try it on." She hurried to the dressing room, grabbing more dresses as she walked. "And this one, and this one, and oh! This one's amazing!"

Helga was thankful for the sound of Lila's absence, and she slowly made her way around the racks of dresses. None of them looked like anything she would want to wear; everything seemed to scream Lila. She did not even really want to go to prom, but she knew that Miriam and Bob would make her. It would keep her in the role of 'normal teenage daughter,' and that looked good to Bob's business partners.

"Helga! Helga, come here!" Lila cried. Helga went to the dressing room and watched Lila model all twent-three dresses. The headache in her head worsened.

"Oh, Helga, you should have tried some on," Lila said an hour later as they finally made their way out to Helga car.

"I just didn't feel like it today, I guess."

"Oh. Well, we'll just have to go again," she said brightly.

_I can hardly wait._ Helga pulled out of the mall parking lot and started towards Lila's house.

"You know, Helga, I thought about what you said."

"What's that?"

"Well, I suppose that Arnold and I would be a nice couple. I mean, he's a really nice guy, and I like him, but he's never really shown much interest in me."

_Are you that thick? Does everything have to be spelled out right in front of your pretty blue eyes for you to see it?_ "Well, maybe he's just shy."

"Maybe. I guess I'll just have to be on the lookout for him. Watch him more closely and give him more of my attention." She turned to Helga. "Do you think that will work?"

_Of course it would, you dolt! Guys like it when you show interest in them! But that's not what we want you to do, now is it? _"Well, sometimes guys like it when you play hard to get." _But you tend to do that naturally, Miss Untouchable._

"Oh, I couldn't do that, Helga. It's dishonest and misleading."

_Oh, God, why? Why do You hate me so much? _ "Lila, if I were you, I'd just be yourself. Don't do anything special or different."

Lila brightened. "I'm glad you said that. I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't."

Helga made a face as she pulled in front of the Sawyer residence. "Well, this looks like the end of the road, Lila. I'll see ya tomorrow at school."

"Don't you want to come in?" Lila asked as she got out.

"That's okay. I need to get home."

"Right. Thanks again, Helga."

Helga had never been so happy to go home in her entire life. It was beyond her comprehension how anyone could stand to be around Lila for more than five minutes at a time. She ran up the stairs to her room the minute she entered the penthouse, saying nothing to Miriam, Bob, and Olga as they watched television in the living room. She threw her pajamas on and crawled into bed, more than ready for the day to end. She pulled out her diary and began to write.

You know, I've spent many at time wishing to be Lila Sawyer. She's smart, pretty, funny (according to some people), and everyone loves her, including Arnold. But I've never really gotten to know her until the past couple of years. I know she had a tough time when she first moved to the city, but she carries no scars from it. She seems to not be able to feel any emotion other than insufferable happiness. She can't be a real person; real people have emotions, they have feelings. I guess as I've gotten older I've noticed Lila's emotional handicap. Today I can definitely say that I will never envy her again, with the exception that Arnold is crazy about her. She's got him completely buffaloed, it sad. How a boy so smart got stuck in her web, I'll never understand. I know I can't understand everything, just like I can't understand why he can't see that I am the only one who can ever really love him. Me, Helga G. Pataki, Arnold's one and only.

Helga closed the book, and shoved it under her pillow as she drifted to sleep. _Lila's a stupid cow,_ she thought. _Just a stupid cow that will be easy to get rid of…_

A/N: The last chapters have been more from Helga' s point of view, so the next one will be more from Arnold's. Gerald will be more involved, too. Anyways, I'll keep writing if you keep reading. Later days.


	5. Hell is a Place on Earth

A/N: Well, Christmas is VERY quickly approaching, and the money in my pocket is slowly dwelling. Minimum wage sucks (though I get paid slightly more than that…and I emphasize slightly). Sorry, I just feel that Christmas has gotten away from the real meaning, but I'm sure you get that enough so I'll stop there.

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything associated with it (I try to have a different thing every time, but now it's just getting lame).

A Sure Thing

Chapter 5 – Hell is a Place on Earth

~ Wednesday, April 16 ~

"If I had one wish this is what it would be: I'd ask you to spend all your time with me, and we'd be together forever. We'll buy a small house in South Central L.A., raise lots of kids, and we'd both join a gang, just as long as we're together," Arnold sang softly as he worked on his note cards for his English paper. He figured it was about time he actually started putting some effort into the project.

"The things you make me want to do. I'd rob a Quik-E Mart for you. I'd go the pound and let all the cats go free, just as long as you'd be with me," a voice sang beautifully behind him, scaring him half to death.

He turned around. Helga was smirking down at him. "You are such a dork. Who sings in the library?"

"You," he snapped back.

She shrugged. "Point taken." She sat down across from him, laid her books down, and laid her head on top of them as she began to doze off.

Arnold watched her for a few moments. He actually wanted to talk to her, but he was confused as to why she had to come over to his table to go to sleep. "Uh, Helga?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"You're a smart boy, Arnoldo. I'm _sleeping_. You see, somebody kept calling me last night, and I couldn't get any sleep."

_So she was ignoring me last night._ "Why didn't you just pick up the phone and talk to me so I would stop calling?"

She snorted. "Arnold, I spent an entire night with the brat. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about her. You need to give your system some time to recover from her before you have to deal with her again."

"You make her sound like a stomach virus."

"More like Ebola for me, but whatever." She closed her eyes. "How'd you get my phone number anyways?"

"Cory."

"I'll kill 'im," she muttered, but a slight smile appeared on her face.

"So . . ." he started. Hadn't he given her enough hints that he wanted to talk about Lila?

"So don't ever leave fifteen messages on my answering machine ever again. Lord, you're like that girl on _How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days._"

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how I generally don't go to chick flicks!"

She opened an eye. "Really? Fooled me. I figured you'd like them since you act like a girl most of the time."

"I do not act like a girl!" _Why is it every time I'm around this girl I have to defend my sexuality (which I am very secure of!)?_

"Oh, you do to. Don't worry, some girls like that, but if I were you, I'd grow some balls fast. Seriously," she said in a very good Eric Cartman impression.

"Damn it, Helga!" he cried, and he leaned across the table and lifted her head off her books. Helga looked up at him, half frightened, half awestruck. All his frustration melted away as he stared into her eyes, and he felt a strange peace wash over him. That is until he realized what he was doing. Arnold blushed deeply and dropped his hands. "Sorry," he muttered, looking away from her.

He could feel her staring at him, but she quickly moved on, shoving a piece of paper at him. "Here's a list of Lila's likes and dislikes."

Arnold took the sheet and looked it over. "Well, this helps."

Helga stared at him, then laughed. "Do you want to know what to do with that information?"

"I have a few ideas of how to use this to my advantage!"

Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, what would you do?"

"If I was you?"

He nodded.

"I'd grow some balls and ask her out."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. _At least she's consistent, so I generally know what insults she's throwing me. _"I'm just supposed to go up to her and say, 'Hey, Lila, wanna swap some spit at the American Rival?'"

Helga's eyes widened. "Oh-ho, so that's what you want out of this relationship!"

"No, I was being sarcastic! I didn't mean that literally, though I wouldn't say no to it …"

"Oh, our little Arnold's going after his first piece of ass! Where's the camera when you need it?"

"Helga, if you don't shut up I won't help you anymore."

She titled her head. "Fine."

"WHAT?" Arnold was completely confused. Helga was entirely calm with his threats (though he doubted any threat he give really held its purpose). She cleaned her nails, smiling slightly. "You're not even the least bit bothered by that?"

"Nope."

Now he was just insulted. "Why not?"

She looked at him dully. "Contract, yutz. If you miss a practice, I am legally bond to do whatever I want to you, so I could make your life hell just for my personal amusement."

"You do that anyways," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" she snapped.

"You sure twisted everything so it was in your favor."

"Well duh. I'd be stupid not to, and you were stupid to sign it without looking it over thoroughly."

Arnold twirled his pencil in his hands for a few moments before slamming it down on the table. He began to pack his stuff up.

"Where are you going?" she asked, suddenly completely engrossed in this actions in the conversation.

"Some place where I can get my work done, so, in general terms, away from you."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Gee, I'm sorry for trying to help you," she hissed.

"You're not helping me, you're insulting me. Face it, Helga, you're useless."

Arnold was not prepared for her reaction. Helga looked like she'd been slapped, and the pain was written all over her face. "I may be useless, Hair Boy, but at least I'm not pathetic! You don't even know how to ask a girl out on a simple date. 'Pride of South Central' indeed!"

The bell rang, and Helga shot him one last disgusted look before leaving.

Arnold sighed, and walked to his locker. _Okay, so that was a little harsh, but it's not like it's anything worse than everything she's done to me._ However, he had to agree at least a little bit that when it came to Lila, he was a tad on the pathetic side.

He was busy angrily shoving books into his bag when Gerald walked up beside him. "What's got your panties all up in a twist?"

_Can we please stop the "Arnold acts like a girl" jokes? _"Nothing," he snapped, shoving his evil U.S. History book in his bag.

"Something's up. Usually you aren't so abusive to your books, though I must say I regularly get the urge to set mine on fire or chuck 'em out a window, preferably on the teacher of the class."

Arnold sighed. "We had another fight."

Bewilderment swept over Gerald's face. "What? You guys are already in the "Ike and Tina Turner" mode? When did you even start dating?"

Arnold stared at him. "What? We're not dating! I like Lila, remember?"

"Then whom are you fighting with?"

"Helga. Who else?"

"Oh, yes. Helga, aka the wicked bitch of the west."

"She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Arnold, please, don't tell me you're developing a soft spot for Helga G. Pataki!"

"I don't have a soft spot for her…. Look, can we just drop this all together?"

Gerald shrugged. "Fine by me. Helga the Bitch is not exactly my favorite topic of conversation."

Arnold sighed. There was no changing Gerald's opinion of Helga. He walked to the locker room with a queasy feeling in his stomach. Helga was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He was going to have to ask Lila out sometime. Worse yet, he had a practice with Helga tonight…

¤~¤~¤

Helga was lying in the grass beside the ball diamond when Arnold arrived three hours later. She kicked her legs up and down as she lay on her stomach as she read. She looked like a little girl, and the thought made Arnold smile and hopeful for the next couple hours. "What are you doing?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

"Poetry."

"Poetry?"

"Yeah, so it's probably nothing you'd be interested in." She shut her book.

"Helga, I'm a musician. I like poetry. That's what we write."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, so it's mostly Corbin who writes it, but still."

"Look, Arnold, I'm tired of fighting. Can we just get to work?"

Arnold watched her get up to get her stuff. She acted somewhat depressed, certainly not like her normal self. He wondered what was wrong, but figured it was wiser not to ask her to explain herself.

However, whether Helga wanted to fight with him or not, nearly an hour and a half later they were nearly ready to kill each other.

"Helga, please, if you just do what I tell you you'll be fine."

"I _am_ keeping my weight back, Hair Boy, and who died and made you the supreme ruler of all that is hitting?"

"You're the one who practically begged for my help!" he thundered.

"_Excuse me?_ I believe _you're _the one who was graveling for my assistance!"

"Right, and since you're such a selfish brat we're here because heaven forbid you help someone else without having to get something in return!"

"That's bad business!"

He waved a hand at her. "And there's the Pataki coming out of you."

Helga threw her bat down. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He followed in suit and threw his glove on the ground, half out of anger, half to mock her. "It means you are a mini-Big Bob Pataki!"

Helga turned bright red. "Take that back or I swear I'll kick your ass!"

"Please, Helga, if you haven't noticed, we're not in forth grade anymore. You can't bully me around these days."

"Really? The way you've been chasing after Lila Sawyer like an idiot chicken with his head cut off got me all confused!"

"Maybe you're right, Helga. Your unibrow is coming in quite nicely!"

"You bastard! I'll kill ya!"

Helga reached the pitcher's mound faster than he thought humanly possible (_well, at least her first step is quicker,_ he thought grimly). She shoved him to the ground and hit him square in the jaw. He threw his weight at her, and they began to roll. When they finally stopped, Arnold pinned Helga's shoulders down. "Helga, I've never hit a girl, so don't you dare make me start now!"

"Get off me!"

"Not until you promise me you won't have another go at me."

Helga grabbed his arms and pulled her knee up with as much force as she could muster. Arnold automatically released his grip on her and rolled off to the side. "I won't have other go at you."

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice very high.

Helga sat still as he recovered. "I guess its safe to say this training session is over."

"Yeah," he muttered, still doubled over with pain.

Helga stood up, grabbed her notebook that was lying beside the backstop, and sat back down next to Arnold, who was now sitting upright, but still in pain. "I'm sorry for hitting you…and the knee thing."

"Right." He rubbed his jaw.

"I'm just really stressed and frustrated, and I took it out on you." Her expression darkened. "Plus you said I was just like my father."

"Yeah, that was a little low, but so was all the things you said about me."

She nodded. "Okay, new rule: no physical abuse of any kind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Verbal's still okay?"

"Please, Arnold. Let's not break tradition."

He laughed. "Deal. So what's the notebook for?"

She looked at it and bit her lip. "Well, since you are too chicken to ask Lila out in person –"

"I'm not chicken!"

"Okay, _uncomfortable_, I figured you could write her a love-letter type thing. This way you won't say or do anything stupid, and she'll think it's romantic, or whatever."

_That's actually a good idea._ "Okay. Let's start."

"Just tell me what to write."

"Right. Um, Lila, comma –" He stopped as Helga raised her eyebrows. "What?"

She dropped her eyes back to the letter. "Nothing, it's just I figured you should start out with a better greeting than just her name."

Arnold crossed his arms. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Well, I figured something along the lines of, 'my dearest Lila,' would be fitting enough for your dream girl." Her expression was innocent, but her brown eyes here twinkling maliciously.

"Helga, I'm asking the girl out on a date, not going off to fight for the Union!"

She shrugged. "Fine. _Lila,_" she said in a deep voice. "Now what?"

He shot her a nasty look. "Okay, I was wondering if you would be interested in going to the movies with me this Friday night. I think we would have a really good time together and …. Would you stop looking at me like that and write?"

Helga held her hands up in surrender. "Sorry, I just thought you should make it sound like you're not in sixth grade. And you're taking her to the movies?"

"Yes! What's wrong with that? And what's wrong with my letter? That's how I talk!"

"Well, you need to bump it up a little because clearly regular-old-Arnold-and-a-movie isn't good enough for Princess Pill."

Arnold grabbed his mitt and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Helga asked, following him as he walked away.

"Somewhere where I won't be insulted every other second."

"Would you stop being so Goddamn sensitive?"

He turned around. "You know, Helga, this isn't worth it, okay? Even if I get Lila to date me, it won't matter because I'll have your voice in my head telling me what to do, and your lies will be in her head. Consider the deal off."

Helga was rooted where she stood. "But we signed a contract!"

"So now you can officially make my life a living hell. That's what you're best at anyways."

Helga watched him walk away, completely ashamed of herself. She drove home in silence, ignoring Mickey's calls to her cell phone. However, the last thing she expected to see when she opened penthouse door was her father.

"Where have you been, Missy?" Big Bob roared at her.

"At practice," she said as she walked past him.

                He grabbed her arm and spun her around. "Practice doesn't last until 8:30."

"So I took the long way home."

"You were supposed to have dinner with your family and the Moores."

Helga vaguely remembered Miriam saying something about that. "So I forgot." She made a face. "Where did you tell them I was this time, tutoring orphans or volunteering at the hospital? I'd like to keep up with my extracurricular activities."

"Don't you dare get smart with me! This was very important –"

"Right, Dad. It's very important to have your two daughters Olga and Olga there to show off to your clients."

"Damn it, young lady, don't joke about this. You missed something that was very important to me!"

She stared her father straight in the eyes. "What about all my games, Bob? Or my parent-teacher conferences? Those were important to me. Or my driver's test? Freshman orientation? Award banquets at school? Or what about all those dinners I'm invited to because I'm salutatorian? Do you think I didn't care when you and Miriam weren't there?"

He released her. "Go to your room. I'm tired to talking about this."

"That's right, Bob. Just swept things under the Persian rugs. No one will ever find them again," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"With pleasure, but that's not my room." She headed upstairs. "My room's across town!"

"That's the thanks I get for providing you with this penthouse and this life of luxury?" he yelled after her.

"I never asked for it, and as far as I'm concerned, I've never once wanted it or needed it!" she thundered. She slammed the door, threw herself on her bed, and did what she generally did every night.

She cried.

¤~¤~¤

"If anyone asks you, Quin hit me because I said he sucked at bass," was the first thing Arnold said to Gerald after he picked up the phone.

"Why would I need to say that?"

Arnold turned on his computer and logged onto the Internet. "Because Helga' socked me in the jaw."

"What? Why?"

"Cause I insulted her. I got her pretty good, too."

"So why didn't you just hit her back?"

"I can't hit Helga."

"I would."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "I knew you wouldn't. No matter how much you hate Helga, she's still a girl, and you can't hit a girl anymore than I can."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that one. If Helga ever pushed me too far, she'd be in for a surprise. It's not fair. She uses that to get the upper hand, you know. Girls are like that."

Arnold rolled his eyes and was going to check the baseball scores when a loud beep came from his computer. "Oh my God," he muttered, interrupting Gerald's theory on girls.

"What," Gerald asked.

"Lila just IMed me."

"What'd she say?"

"She'd love to."

"She'd love to what?"

"I have no idea." He honestly did not.

"Has she said anything else?"

"Yeah. She wants me to pick her up at 7:30 on Friday, and …"

"And what?"

Arnold sighed. "And she loved the letter."

"Letter? What letter?"

"Look, Gerald, I'll call you back."

"What? Arnold, you can't leave me like this! What letter?"

"Bye, Gerald." Arnold chewed on the end of his pencil before typing to Lila he was glad she liked it and he'd talk to her tomorrow at school. He signed out and picked up the phone again.

Helga picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Ugh, didn't I tell you not to call me anymore?"

"Helga."

She sighed. "You were right. I've been a jerk, so I decided to really help you."

"Thanks, Helga. You know, you really surprise me sometimes."

"Just taking a break from my day job."

Arnold rubbed his neck nervously. "I didn't mean that."

"Sure you didn't," she said shortly. "Anyways, you're taking her to see _West Side Story _this Friday."

"I thought that was sold out."

"So I pulled some strings to make up for that nasty bruise that I'm sure is forming on your jaw."

Arnold was floored. "Wow. I don't know what to say."

"Perfect, because I like much you better when you're not talking. Anyways, nothing major in the note, so you'll be okay with Lila. And as much as I love talking to you, a girl needs her beauty sleep, and we both now I need as much of that as possible."

"Helga, that's –"

"Hey, I gotta keep those unibrows at bay. Good night, Arnold, and you do know this means the deal's back on, right?"

"Right. Sweet dreams, Helga."

The phone clicked in his ear, and Arnold was too stunned to call Gerald back. _Wow, Helga does tend to come through for me whenever I need her. Quite an amazing creature. Annoying, but amazing all the same…_

A/N: Be back in a flash. Later days.


	6. Between Love and Hate

A/N: Almost to 2004. Personally, I can't wait (although I am seriously behind on everything….work sucks. I mean, I love my job, but I haven't had time to do what I need to get done over break. Then again, it probably would help if I didn't watch _Pirates of the Caribbean_ everyday). Anywho, you don't want to hear about my problems, so here's chapter six.

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold!

A Sure Thing

Chapter 6 – Between Love and Hate

~ Friday, April 18 ~

                "Damn it all to hell."

                "What's wrong with you?" Gerald asked from the floor of Arnold's room. He was playing _The Legend of Zelda_ on Arnold's old Nintendo and stuffing his face with Doritos.

                "She had to give me tickets to a damn Broadway show, didn't she?"

                "Should've thought of something yourself, bro," Gerald muttered.

                Arnold sighed. His best friend had not been very sympathetic over the past few days. "Is this good enough?" he asked, gesturing to his khakis and plain white polo shirt.

                "How the hell should I know what people wear to those things?"

                Arnold's eyes flashed, and he walked over to Gerald and pressed the reset button on the Nintendo.

                "Damn it, Arnold, you've just erased my file! I was in level seven!"

                "Like it's so hard to beat those guys."

                "So? Just because you're paranoid about your date doesn't mean you have to be an asshole."

                Arnold walked to the window, saying nothing.

                Gerald turned the Nintendo off and turned around to face Arnold. "Somethin' else wrong?"

                "Do you know where the Patakis moved to?" he asked as he started out the window.

                Gerald shrugged. "Somewhere uptown." He grabbed another handful of chips. "I've never really wanted to know where the Queen of the Bitches spends her nights."

                "Don't call her that," Arnold said automatically.

                "Ha, after all the hell that girl's caused me, I can call her whatever the hell I want to."

                "That wasn't her fault," Arnold muttered.

                "_Excuse me_?" Gerald hissed as he stood up.

                "Do I really look okay?"

                "Like God-damn Cary Grant. What the hell did you say?"

                "I didn't say anything," Arnold snapped as he sprayed some cologne. He coughed. "Ugh, too much."

                "She's gonna screw this up. You know that, right?"

                "Who's gonna screw what up?" Arnold's expression darkened as he realized a pimple was beginning to form on the side of his nose. _Damn! Not now!_

                "Helga. She'll mess things up between you and Lila."

                "Helga's the reason why Lila and I are even going out tonight, remember?"

                "Oh, she'll help you out at first. Then she'll make her move. Helga's smart. She knows the higher you climb the harder you fall."

                Arnold grabbed a stick of Big Red and his coat. "You sound like a fortune cookie."

                "And that's probably something you'll need in a few minutes." Gerald picked up his keys. "I gotta go to work. Just don't screw this up too bad." He left without another word.

                "Thanks for the load of confidence." _You know, for hating her so much, you and Helga act a lot alike._ Arnold grabbed his wallet and decided it was too warm for his coat, and he could not find a jacket nice enough, so he went without anything. He quickly said good-bye to his parents before climbing into a cab.

                "1246 Rosette Boulevard," he said to the driver as he shut the door. Disinterested in telling his life story or listening to the driver's, he stared out the window and watched the city pass by. They passed Millen Creek and the house Arnold and his parents lived in when they first returned to Hillwood. He had hated that house. It was too far away from his neighborhood and friends, but he hated even more the reason why they moved back to the boarding house even more. They returned after his grandpa had a stroke midway through his freshman year. Phil recovered amazingly well considering his age, but he could no longer run the boarding house by himself (though Arnold's grandma had helped). Miles, Stella, and Arnold returned to Sunset Arms, and aside of his grandpa's ailment, Arnold had to admit he had been much happier ever since.

                _That's why I don't know where Helga lives_, he thought as the cab pulled up in front of Lila's house. _I was still uptown then._

                He rang the doorbell, and Ellen promptly answered. "Arnold! How delightful to see you again!"

                "How are you, Mrs. Sawyer?" Arnold asked politely. He was not too sure what he thought of Lila's stepmother (although over the past few days he had heard an earful about her from Helga). Ellen had always been polite to him, but it was not until she ran into him and his parents at a benefit last spring that she finally warmed up to him.

                "Oh, I'm dreadfully tired. Mark and I have been busy planning a dinner party for the Board of Directors, and I think it's going to be the death of me. The very death of me, Arnold!"

                "Board of Directors? Oh, right. Mr. Sawyer works for Big Bob Pataki, right?"

                Ellen's eyes flashed. "I wouldn't say that. They're more like partners."

                Arnold raised his eyebrows but said nothing. _What planet is this lady living on? Hell would have to freeze over twice before Big Bob Pataki would ever even think of having a partner. _"Uh, is Lila ready?"

                "Oh, Lila, right. I'll go check." She disappeared upstairs, and Arnold was grateful, though he felt even more awkward. He was not a big fan of the Sawyer household. He felt like he was in a museum gift shop; everything was pretty and expensive and breakable, but is was measly clutter that no one needed and was extremely gaudy.

                "Arnold!" Lila cried from the top of the stairs, interrupting his thoughts. He was speechless as she descended, not only because Lila looked amazing in her little black designer dress, but also because she looked amazing in her little black designer dress. He felt extremely underdressed. She twirled for him when she reached the bottom of the staircase, clearly waiting for a compliment.

                "You look amazing," he said, holding out an arm for her (and feeling like a complete ass).

                She smiled as she slipped her gloved arm in his. "I'm ever so glad it's warm tonight. I don't have wear my coat."

                "Huh?" He was confused. What type of conversation starter was that? "Oh, right. I didn't bring one either."

                Her smiled dropped. "You didn't bring a coat?"

                "No. I didn't think I'd need it. Like you said, it's warm out."

                She shot him a dirty look, but Ellen called out, "You two have a good time!"

                "We will!" Lila shouted back as they walked out the door. Arnold was never so happy to get into a cab, but Lila stopped just before they reached the sidewalk, and he nearly ran into her. "You took a cab?"

                "Yeah. Why?"

                "Oh, no reason." She made a slight face and climbed in. 

                "Roosevelt Square," Arnold told the cab driver, and they sped off downtown. After listening to Lila giggle for nearly five minutes, Arnold finally asked her what was so funny.

                She looked him up and down. "I love the fact that you're so dressed down." Arnold blushed deeply. "It's so hip-rock."

                "You mean punk rock?"

                "Whatever. Anyways, I think it's brilliant. It'll be a sure way to get everyone's attention." She looked like she was going to burst with excitement at the very thought.

                "Right. A sure thing." He ran his hand through his hair out of nervousness, making it even messier. _Great_. He watched her stare out the window, unsure of what he could say without shooting himself in the foot.

                Suddenly Lila whipped around, scaring Arnold half to death (which he would have gladly welcome at this point). "You're not going to take me to that bar after the show, are you?"

                "What bar?"

                "American Idol. I've heard Helga talk about it, and it sounds absolutely horrible."

                "Rival," he said bluntly.

                "What?"

                "Rival. American Rival. I'd shoot myself before I'd go to a place named after that God-awful show."

                Lila's jaw dropped. "What's wrong with _American Idol_?"

                "Where should I begin?" He was aware of his rising voice. "Look, it's not a bar, it's just a club. Besides, I wasn't planning on taking you there."

                "Thank God. I mean, I like you, Arnold, but I don't like you enough to go into that place. Who knows what kinds of diseases I'd contract in there." She shuddered, but quickly regained her smile. "Don't worry, I know the perfect place we can go."

                "And where's that?" he asked grimly.

                "You'll see."

                The cab slowed to a stop. "Roosevelt Square," the cabbie said.

                "Roosevelt Square? Why aren't we going directly to the Omni?" Lila asked.

                "Well, I thought since it's such a beautiful night we could walk there," he replied, stumbling over his words.

                "Oh, that's ever so sweet," she squeezed his hand. "But my shoes really aren't meant to walk long distances."

                "It's only three blocks!"

                "And that's three blocks too many." She tapped the driver's shoulder. "Omni Theater, please."

                Needless to say, Arnold was in a very bad mood when they finally reached the theater, and the night showed no signs of improving any time soon.

¤˜¤˜¤

                "Oh, it's so sad! Yet so beautiful!"

                Arnold rolled his eyes and handed Lila another tissue (he had volunteered halfway into the musical to go down to the drug store and buy her a small pack).

                "Thank you ever so much," she said, blowing her nose loudly. "Oh, wasn't that the most beautiful thing ever?"

                "It was something all right." He actually had not minded it too much, but to say it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen was a bit of a stretch. He had never been a big fan of _Romeo and Juliet_, which is basically what _West Side Story_ was, but the music was not half bad. However, he did find it a little far-fetched that a group of gangs from New York would just randomly break out into perfectly choreographed dance numbers. Then again, he may have enjoyed it more if someone beside him had not been reciting every other line. "You ready to go?"

                "I suppose," she sniffed. Arnold rolled his eyes.

                They went outside to catch a cab with the rest of the audience. Lila tapped her toe loudly on the sidewalk and was staring off into space. "What's wrong?" he asked.

                "I know I know that boy over there."

                "Who?"

                "The one over there. Brown hair, tall, black suit."

                Arnold followed her eyes. The said boy was now walking towards them.  Lila may not have remembered him, but Arnold did. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched the boy. The temperature had dropped, and he now regretted not bringing his coat.

                "Lila Sawyer!" the boy said loudly as he hugged her. "You look even more amazing than before!"

                "Oh, it's so nice to see you too!" she cried, clearly not remembering the poor boy's name. "What are you doing here?"

                He laughed grimly. "I'm with the parents, actually. Well, my parents, their friends, and their friends' daughter. I've been stuck babysitting her all night."

                "How horrible!"

                "I know. Lila, you're shivering! Why don't you have a coat?"

                "I would if somebody would have brought his," she snapped, finally acknowledging Arnold.

                "Well, you can have mine." He gave Arnold a dirty look as he put his jacket on Lila's shoulders. "Well, if it isn't the  'Pride of South Central' himself?" he sneered.

                _Did everyone on the friggin' planet see that article?_ "In the flesh, and I see you've been keeping up on your scouting reports, _Matt Spalding_."

                "Matt," Lila muttered. "_Matt_, I didn't know you knew Arnold."

                "We've played against each other on a few occasions."

                "Meaning we've kicked your ass in regional the past two years."

                Matt's face darkened. "Language. You're in the presence of a lady."

                Arnold rolled his eyes.

                "How's college?" Lila asked.

                "Fine." He leaned forward and closer to Lila. His nose was practically touching hers. "I'm keeping busy, what with finals coming up and the baseball team and everything."

                "Ooh, how's that going?"

                "Yes, Matt, how's the red-shirted life?" Arnold asked. It was a little out of character for him, but the guy was interfering with his date.

                Matt's face turned a very ugly shade of purple.

                "I keep up on my scouting reports as well," Arnold hissed.

                "Well, Lila, looks like our limo is here. It was nice to see you again."

                "Likewise, but don't forget your jacket." She started to take it off.

                Matt shot a look at Arnold. "Keep it. You need it more than me, and it will give me an excuse to see you again so I can pick it up." He kissed her cheek. "As if I need an excuse to see you."

                "Good luck with your finals!" Lila squealed.

                "Yeah, I hope you have better luck than last year!" Arnold yelled after him.

                Lila hit him in the chest. "What's wrong with you?"

                "Me? I'm not the one who's forgotten who she's out on a date with!"

                Her eyes narrowed. "How'd you know about that?"

                "Please, everyone knows about how Matt's mummy and daddy had to smooth out his cheating incident last year during finals so he could not only graduate but play in the postseason." Arnold laughed. "And from what I remember it cost them a pretty penny."

                "I can't believe you!" she cried as she stomped off.

                "Lila, that's nothing to get upset about! Matt's an ass!" he said as he followed her. "At least I could remember his name!"

                She stopped.

                "Look, can we just get a cab and go to that place you were telling me about?"

                She paused. "We can walk from here."

                So that is how they walked, Lila in Matt's designer coat and her shoes that were not meant for walking long distances, and Arnold behind her in his plain white polo shirt and khakis. When they finally stopped, Lila seemed to be in a better mood. "Here we are!"

                Arnold looked up. "The Blue Flamingo?"

                "Yep. C'mon." Lila dragged him into the bar, and they sat down at a table by the piano. "You can order whatever you want. The owner's Ellen's cousin, so I'm practically VIP."

                Arnold was not big on bar owners who deliberately sold liquor to known minors, but he needed a drink. He spent the next hour listening to a bad piano player and an even worse jazz singer as he drank his rum and coke. Lila drank martinis and kept going on and on about how good the singer was, but she could still do a much better job, as hard to believe as that was. Naturally he was stuck with the bill, which he expected, but he would have liked Lila to at least offer to pay it, since most of the drinks were hers. He would not have let her pay, but an offer was all he asked for.

                The cab ride back to Lila's house was hell as she talked about how she and Matt had dated briefly the year before and analyzed why it did not work out. He was tempted to just drop her off, but he walked her to the door like he was supposed to. "Well, here we are," he said, not caring how dumb he sounded.

                "It's been interesting, that's for sure," she said. "And I'd be interested to do this again."

                "Really?" Arnold was genuinely surprised.

                "If you're interested," she said, putting her arms around his neck. "Well, good night." She leaned forward to kiss him, and he was more than surprised when Lila's tongue touched his own.

                "Bye, Arnold," she whispered when she finally pulled away and disappeared inside the house.

                Arnold was in a daze after his mini-make out session with Lila. The date was horrible, no doubt, but that made up for it a little bit, right?

¤˜¤˜¤

~ Saturday, April 19 ~

                "Geez, it's really coming down out there," Miles said as he came into the boarding house.

                "Mmm-hmmm," Arnold muttered from the couch in the living room. He was more than thankful; his double header had been cancelled, and he finally had a chance to catch up on homework.

                "I'd be careful in there. Roof's been leaking since February."

                Arnold held up a saucepan. "Got it covered."

                "Good man, but I'd switch to the Dutch oven. It's not going to stop any time soon."

                "Right."

                "Where's your mom?"

                "Doing laundry, I think." Arnold paused. "Why?"

                "No reason," Miles said, his voice slightly higher. "Stella!" he shouted.

                Arnold turned around. "What did you do?"

                Miles laughed sheepishly. "I dropped the cell phone in a puddle. It won't work anymore. Stella!" He sighed. "Why isn't she coming?"

                "Dad! You had to go and get the most expensive, up-to-date model, and you dropped it in a puddle?"

                "It was slippery! Stella! Arnold's tripped and hit his head on the end table! It's gushing blood pretty bad! Oh God, I think I see bone!"

                "Dad!"

                Stella ran into the front hallway in seconds. "Where's Arnold? Where's my baby?"

                "Oh, the boy's fine. See –"

                "Fine? He cut his head open! That's hardly fine! Where is he? Where's my baby?"

                "Mom, I'm fine. Dad dropped the phone in a puddle."

                Stella held her chest for a moment, catching her breath before thundering, "MILES PHILIP, DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

                "What, lie about Arnold or drop the cell phone in a puddle?"

                "Both!" She glared at him. "You had to go and get the most expensive, up-to-date model, and you dropped it in a puddle?"

                Miles smiled slightly at her. Stella sighed. "Well, I guess we'll just see if we can get a replacement. Make sure you go to that little blond at the Emporium. She's the one who gave us the discount when we bought the phone."

                Arnold turned around again. "What blond girl?"

                Miles shrugged. 

                "Bob Pataki's daughter," Stella said.

                "Helga?"

                "Yes, Helga."

                "She gave you a discount?"

                "Oh, yeah, she was really nice about the whole thing," Miles said, examining the broken phone.

                "I'll take the phone down to the Emporium."

                Stella and Miles raised their eyebrows.

                "I need a break from my trig homework."

                "I thought you were dating Lila now." Stella said slowly.

                "I am, but –"

                "How'd that go?" his father piped up.

                "Fine."

                "Kinda strange they had a show on Good Friday."

                "Yeah, I thought of that, but it was a make up show, like how we had to make up a school day yesterday."

                "You're not trying to date two girls, are you Arnold?" Stella asked with a stern look on her face.

                "No! I have to ask Helga a question about our history assignment. I fell asleep yesterday." _Well, the second part's not a lie._

                "Arnold!" Stella cried.

                "Sorry. Can I go, though? It's starting to let up."

                "Fine, but you'll be doing homework the second you get home."

                "Right, Mom." He grabbed his coat, the phone, and his dad's credit card. "See you in a bit."

                "Be careful of puddles!" Miles called after him.

¤˜¤˜¤

                Big Bob's Beeper Emporium was truly an empire now, with large stores all over Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. However, as her father's business expanded, Arnold know Helga's loathing of him had increased, which was why Arnold was so confused as to why she worked there.

                Helga was sitting behind one of the front counters with her feet propped up, reading _The Jungle_. "So you do work here."

                "Ah!" Helga dropped her book and fell off the chair.

                "Are you okay?" Arnold leaned over the counter to stare at her below.

                "I'm fine." Helga spat, but her face was red. "Why are you here?"

                Arnold placed the phone on the counter. "Dad dropped it in a puddle."

                Helga made a face and picked up the phone. She began searching for the instruction manual and Miles's contracts.

                "That and I need to talk to you."

                "Really?" she asked, sounding completely uninterested.

                "Why haven't you returned my calls?"

                "Sorry. Look's like I wasn't interested in going out with you anymore," she said sarcastically.

                "Helga."

                "I was out late last night at the movies with Mick, and I've been here all morning. I haven't had time." She banged the phone several times on the counter. "You filled up the tape in my machine again."

                Arnold winced at the phone torture. "Sorry."

                "It's okay. Not like I want any more messages anyways."

                "Don't you want to know how my date with Lila went?"

                "Not really. Look, the phone's dead, and your dad doesn't have the insurance plan thingy where you pay five bucks a month and you are guaranteed a free replacement phone when you break it, or whatever, so you're going to have to pay for a new one."

                Arnold leaned on the counter. "Do I get the same discount my parents did?"

                She looked up at him, startled. "Why, do you think you should?"

                "Why'd you give it to them?"

                "Because I felt like it." She returned to the paper work.

                "Helga." He was not about to let her get away with not giving him any answers.

                "Okay, my dad jacks up the prices here like you wouldn't believe, and because he makes me work here, I give discounts sometimes to descent people to piss him off."

                Arnold was confused. "So you do this often?"

                "No, actually, I've only done it once."

                Arnold was taken aback. "Why my parents?"

                She finally looked back at him. "I don't know. Maybe I said some shit to you that day and I felt bad. What does it matter?" Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't do it for you, if that's what you're fishin' for."

                "Of course not," he said quietly.

                She sighed. "Look, I'll give you the twenty percent that I gave your parents, and I'll sign them up for the insurance thing that why if your dad breaks it again, it'll be a hell of a lot cheaper."

                "Wow. Thanks."

                She shoved the contracts at him and put the new phone in a bag. "Whatever will get you outta here."

                Arnold smiled as he signed the papers. "Thanks for the tickets."

                "I'm glad somebody could use them."

                "You really don't want to know how it went?"

                Helga rolled her eyes. "If it will keep you from wetting yourself, do tell."

                "It was horrible."

                "WHAT?"

                "We fought the whole time. It was one of the worst experiences of my life."

                "Well, you're taking it well, all things considered. What are you going to do now?"

                Arnold smiled brightly. "Ask you to help me plan our next date." He handed her his dad's credit card.

                "I thought it went horribly."

                "Oh, it did, but it ended nicely."

                "Oh, _did it?_" Helga asked coldly.

                "What?"

                Helga shoved a pen and the slip at him. "You know, you're one of the few boys I would think could be ruled by his brain instead of his dick. Gerald, of course, we've already seen _that_; Corbin, possibly; but you? I thought you were above that."

                He handed her the signed paper. "Says the girl who once made out with Cory for a good three hours at the American Rival last fall."

                "Ew! Okay, that was only because the band sucked, and we were completely bored."

                "Was that the only thing that sucked that night?"

                Her face turned bright red, and Arnold could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. "Do you want the rest of your face to look like your chin?"

                "Relax, Helga. Remember our agreement? No physical abuse." He smiled at her. "Besides, I know you wouldn't do that. You hold yourself higher than that."

                She stared at him, but Arnold was not able to read her. "I'll be thinking of something," she said finally.

                "Thanks." He reached for the bag at the same time she did, and his hand clasped hers. They stood there for a moment before Helga pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. Arnold cleared his throat and grabbed the bag. "Well, I should get going."

                "Yep." She put the papers away and picked up her book. "See you tomorrow."

                "Tomorrow?"

                She raised her eyebrows. "We have practice."

                "Oh, right."

                "Good-bye, Arnold."

                _Arnold?_ He watched her as she read, but she avoided his gaze. "Good-bye, Helga."

                She waved without looking up as he left. He walked out into the rain and looked up at the gray sky. Helga was continuing to surprise him, but what surprised him the most was that when he held her hand, he did not want to let go.

A/N: The New Year is almost here! (and Happy New Year to those who are in countries where it's already Jan. 1 or are reading this after today). I'll have to come up with some New Year's resolutions that I'll drop in two weeks. And I get to go back to school. As proof that life sucks, I hate break even more than school (and if you've actually read these things and my profile, you should know I hate school with a passion). Oh well. My one-year anniversary of being a registered ff.net member is Saturday (as if anyone cares). Yea for me!  Later days.


	7. All that Glitters

A/N: More snow in Indiana. I may never go back to school regularly again. ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

A Sure Thing

Chapter 7 – All that Glitters

~Sunday, April 20~

                "Well, this isn't going to work."

                "Not unless you feel like mud wrestling."

                Arnold shot Helga a look.

                "What? Just a comment." She shrugged and looked away.

                He sighed. The baseball diamond they usually used was currently a sloppy mess from the downpour the day before. "I forgot how badly this field drains."

                "If it drains at all." She looked at him. "Now what?"

                Arnold bit his lip. The batting cages were not open, and the grass was too slippery to practice her throws…. He watched a man and his dog run by, just as a little boy who was running away from his mother slipped and fell in the mud (which made the mother really start yelling at him). "I'll give you a choice."

                "Okay." Her face brightened. "Movie?"

                "Movie? What?" His face scrunched up in confusion.

                "Let's go see a movie," she said as she pointed towards the large movie screen located at the southern end of the park.

                "No, Helga, a movie is not a choice. Besides, it's Easter."

                "Oh. Right."

                He rolled his eyes. He highly doubted Helga knew this; her family was not religious at all (though he did know Helga went to church from time to time). He, on the other hand, had celebrated Flag Day earlier with his family and the rest of the boarders. He had learned long ago it was a hopeless battle to try to convince Grandma of which holiday it actually was, and he had to admit he had become quite accustomed to the Fourth of July Thanksgivings.

                "ARNOLDO!"

                "Huh?"

                Helga glared at him. "Ya gonna stare out into space or are you going to help me?"

                _She's never gonna cut me some slack, is she?_ "Well, we can either practice sliding—"

                "Yuck," she said as she glanced around, sounding exactly like Rhonda Lloyd.

                "Or we can run," he finished. "Pick your poison, because there's not much else to do."

                She pouted and bit her lip, which reminded him of Lila, except Helga did it in her own way. It was less childish and whiny and more comical, as if she was putting on a show for him (which she probably was). She suddenly looked at him, causing him to blush as she caught him looking at her. Helga's dark eyes were twinkling, which was very pretty, but Arnold knew from experience that she was most dangerous like this. She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "Catch me if you can!" she cried as she ran off.

                "Helga, that's not how it works!" he cried as he shot after her. She had improved from the last time they raced; he was having difficulty catching up to her, especially when she went off the trail and ran in the mud. "Helga!" he breathed, still sprinting after a good five minutes. "Helga! Please, wait up!"

                "Oh, poor baby can't keep up!"

                Arnold groaned when she started to run _faster_, but she returned to the sidewalk, which was considerable easier to run on than the muddy ground. He finally began to pick up some ground on her. "Getting tired yet?"

                "You wish, Hair Boy!" she yelled.

                He shook his head. He was nearly even with her when Helga suddenly pulled up. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" she cried.

                Arnold tried to stop, but that was extremely difficult when he was still running at full speed. Too worried about Helga to pay much attention to anything else, Arnold did not notice when she stuck her leg out in front of him. All he knew was that he suddenly had a mouthful of mud.

                "Oops," Helga said quietly behind him, without the least bit of sincerity.

                Arnold pushed himself up and began to spit the mud out. Behind him Helga cried about how disgusting he was, so he turned and spit at her.

                "Watch it!"

                He sat down and glared up at her. "I thought you said no more physical abuse," he growled as he wiped his mouth off.

                "That was comical abuse, and I didn't mean for you to land head-first."

                "So how did you want me to land?" he snapped.

                "I dunno. Didn't really think it through too much."

                He threw a bit of mud at her. "Help me up, will ya?"

                She shook her head violently. "Hell no. You'll pull me in." She began to pick the mud Arnold had thrown at her out of her hair.

                "Helga, I'm not _you_. Now will you please help me up?"

                She stared at him for a moment. "Fine." She grabbed his hand, and Arnold immediately pulled her in.

                "Ugh!" Helga landed on her side. She sat up and hit him. "Jerk! You said you weren't like me."

                He smirked. "Guess you're rubbing off on me."

                "One can only hope." She paused. "You know, you're on to something there. You should start acting more like me. The world needs more Helga G. Patakis."

                "Now that's a frightening thought. Helga, don't even joke about that."

                "Jerk!" Helga cried, but she was silenced as Arnold threw more mud at her. "Would you stop that?"

                His smiled widened. "C'mon. We got work to do." He stood up and began to walk away.

                Helga threw a wad at him, hitting Arnold in the back of the head. "You gonna help me up or what?"

                He laughed. "Helga, I'm not that stupid."

                "Are you calling me stupid?" she cried.

                "Not in so many words, Helga. Lighten up."

                She growled and pushed herself up. "Now what, oh great master Obi-Won?"

                He could not help but smile at her. Helga was covered head to toe in mud; it was caked in her hair and smeared across her face. She, however, had given up her previous attempts at femininity and was back to acting normal, thus oblivious to her appearance. "You've improved."

                She shrugged. "So I've been running and am now in better shape." Her face broke out into an evil grin. "See, that's what happens when you go running and then relax at a club instead of going to a play and drinking rum and cokes all night. You stay in better shape."

                He eyed her carefully. Arnold had forgotten two of the most important rules with Helga: she always knew more than she let on and she always knew everything about him. "How did you know that?" he asked slowly.

                "I have my sources." She began to jog, saying nothing more.

                "Did Lila tell you about it?" he asked, trying to remember just how much he told Helga about their date.

                "Look, Shorty, this is _my_ time. We can talk about your love life later."

                "I'm taller than you," he muttered absentmindedly. He was left to wonder. _Does she mean it's her time, meaning time to work on her skills and stuff, or her time with **me**?_ He stopped. _Wait, am I wanting Helga to want to be around me?_

                She turned around, jogging in place as she stared at him. "Get the lead out, Arnoldo! There's no stopping when you're running with me."

                "Right." He was thankful as Helga began to ramble on and on about their history teacher. He would be grateful for anything that kept his mind away from the subject of his feelings for Helga. After all, he was crazy about Lila, not Helga, but he could not help but be fascinated by her, and his thoughts began to drift to the many questions he had about Helga's home life as she continued talking. However, he was not ready to have them answered _today._

The two had been jogging for nearly an hour, and Arnold had to admit he was having a good time (as odd as that sounded. A good time with _Helga_). He was talking to her about the battle of the bands when she stepped in a hole in the sidewalk and fell.

                "Ow, ow, shit, OW!" she cried.

                "Helga, not again. C'mon." He waited for her to get up.

                "Do you honestly think I'm joking?" she snapped.

                He knelt down. "You're really hurt? You're not faking it?" he asked as he touched her right ankle.

                "OW! No, piss-for-brains, if I was faking, _you'd_ be down here with me." 

                _Good point._ "Try to stand up."

                Helga grimaced as she pushed herself off the wet pavement. She was nearly up when her leg gave out and she fell back down. Arnold grabbed her. "I got you."

                "Well, I guess that means I can't walk on it." She smiled weakly at him. "No more running!"

                He returned her look.

                "Now what?"

                "Well, I think we're pretty close to your car. Do you think you can walk there if I help you?"

                "Yeah, I guess."

                They limped slowly along, and Arnold managed to get Helga to her car without her falling again. He could already see her ankle was already swelling, and she still had her shoes and socks on. He opened the passenger side door and helped her in. "Here, you better take your shoes and stuff off." He shut the door and walked over to the other side.

                "What are you doing?" Helga snapped as he sat down in the driver's seat.

                "Driving you home. What does it look like?"

                Her eyes widened. "Oh no, you are not driving my car!" She grimaced in pain as she tried to reach over to steal the keys from him.

                "Helga! Watch it!"

                "Where's your car?"

                "I walked." He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "So, how do I get to your house?"

                He watched as Helga's eyes, which had been glaring ahead, widened. "Uh, no one's home," she said quickly.

                "Where are they?"

                "Mayor's Easter egg hunt."

                "Why didn't you go?"

                "Do I look like the type of person to go to an Easter egg hunt thrown by a middle aged bald man?" She looked out the window. "I faked a stomach cramp."

                He looked at her ankle. "Well, you need someone to take care of you."

                She glared at him. "And what are you implying, Arnoldo Nightingale?"

                "Well, if you aren't going to tell me how to get to your house, there's only one place I can take you."

                "And where's that? The batting cages on Third Street?"

                "No." He made a U-turn and quickly turned left. "My house."

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤

                Helga anxiously wiped her hands on her thighs. She was drenched in a cold sweat, not because of the running, but because of where Arnold was taking her. She was terrified of that house. She had not been in it in years, but all that came to her mind when she thought about Sunset Arms was all the crazy nights she spent there without Arnold's knowledge when she was a child. Of course it would be different now since Miles and Stella lived there, but that only made Helga's nerves worse.

                Arnold must have noticed because he turned and asked her, "What's wrong? Helga, you're shaking."

                "Doi, Hair Boy, like I didn't notice that." She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood; even then she did not stop.

                Arnold's eyes filled with concern, and Helga thought her heart would burst. "Does it hurt that much?"

                "Yeah," she muttered lamely. _Think of something, girl!_ "Well, that and I'm tired and starving."

                "Well, here we are. Mom's great with first-aid. You'll be better here pretty quick," Arnold said as he pulled up in front of Sunset Arms. He walked around the car and opened the door for her. Helga quickly wiped her hands one more time as he offered her his hand. "Can you walk or do I need to carry you?" he asked, smiling broadly.

                "I'm fine," she snapped, but inside Helga was nearly exploding. She put her arm around Arnold as he helped her up the stoop. He had her sit down on the rail as he opened the door and let out a herd of various animals, led by Abner Jr. "Dad, I'm home!" Arnold called as he led Helga into the foyer.

                Miles came down the stairs quickly at the sound of his only child's voice. Helga wondered what it would be like to have a parent that excited to see her on just an ordinary day. "Arnold, my boy, you're home early." He stopped at the bottom stair as he caught sight of Helga. "Hello." He eyed Arnold. "Who's your friend, Arnold?"

                "Dad, this is Helga. Helga Pataki."

                Miles cocked his head as he tried to remember her. "Oh, yes. Helga, the little blond. Nice to meet you again." He raised an eyebrow as he noticed Arnold's arm around Helga's waist.

                Arnold rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Dad, Helga and I were running and she fell and twisted her ankle. Her parents are gone so I figured it would be best for Mom to take a look at it."

                "Oh. Right. I'll go get her. She's out back with your grandparents." Miles disappeared.

                Helga looked up at Arnold. "Your dad already has a pet name for me?"

                "What? Oh, that." He smirked. "They tend not to forget anyone who gives them a discount on expensive items."

                "Oh," Helga said, blushing deeply. Arnold helped her to the couch. "Sit here, the other seat's wet from the leak in the roof."

                "Thanks," she said just as a voice yelled, "Eleanor Roosevelt! I must ask her to tea!"

                "Oh God," Helga sighed as she buried her head in her hands.

                Arnold stared at her, and Helga quickly realized her mistake. "No, Arnold, it's not that," she stammered. "I love your grandma and your family and your house. It's just…a very long story."

                He continued to eye her, and Helga continued to practically hyperventilate. "I'll go get you some ice," he said finally.

                "Thank you," Helga managed to say. _Oh God, this is awful. Arnold thinks I'm ashamed to be in his house and around his family, my ankle is killing me, and … oh God, it's too much!_

                "Oh, you poor thing, look at you. You're shaking terribly," Stella said as she entered the room. Miles and Arnold followed her, and Helga swallowed hard to try to regain her composure, but she was finding that very difficult when being taken care of by the boy she had spent her life obsessing over and his family. "Miles, hand me the first aid kit."

                "Looks like you took quite a tumble, kid," he said to Helga.

                "Uh-huh," Helga said as Stella began to move her ankle. "OW!"

                "Sorry." Stella continued to study her ankle. "Well, it looks like you have a pretty bad sprain. Arnold, give me the ice. Now we'll elevate it and ice it for twenty minutes, then I'll rap it and Arnold'll drive you home so you can rest. Is that okay?"

                "Yes, thank you so much," Helga said as Arnold stuffed pillows under her leg.

                "Arnold, why don't you go get Helga something to eat?" Stella asked Arnold.

                "Yeah, we got more than enough food since it's Flag Day and all," Miles said. He followed Arnold out.

                "Really, this is very nice of you. You don't know how much I appreciate it," Helga said to Stella.

                Stella smiled down at her. "Helga, honey, you are welcome in this house anytime." She stood up and winked at Helga before leaving. "Grandma's especially fond of you." She paused. "And Arnold is as well."

                Helga blushed deeply, but Miles quickly brought in a plate filled with sandwiches and fruit and vegetables. "That enough?"

                "That's more than enough. Thank you."

                He smiled as her as well, and quickly left. Helga felt out of place. She was never treated this nice. Well, she was treated nice at all the fancy restaurants and hotels and things her parents made her go to, but never out of _pure_ _kindness_. 

                Arnold came back carrying a glass of lemonade and a cup of tea. He sat it on the table in front of Helga. "I brought you some lemonade, and Grandma wanted to make sure _Eleanor_ got her tea."

                Helga turned a deeper shade of red and buried her face in her food. He laughed loudly at her.

                "This is your fault, you know," she hissed at him, trying to save what little dignity she had left with him.

                "And how's that?"

                "You made me run."

                "I believe you were the one who ran off, Miss Pataki." He shook his head. "You shot off like a bat outta hell."

                She grinned sheepishly. "I suppose, but it's still your fault."

                They sat in silence for a few moments. "Oh, wait," Arnold cried, and he ran off. Helga watched him return with a handful of towels. "Sorry about all the mud, but a lot of that was _your_ fault."

                "I didn't jump in the mud, if I can recall correctly." She wiped her face off. "Thanks."

                "No problem, but you did make me trip."

                She shrugged. "So do all the same boarders still live here?"

                "Hmm, Mr. Hyunh does, and his daughter Mai moved in with her husband. Ernie left about a year ago when he got married. The Kokoshkas left when Mom and Dad returned, and Mr. Loftus and Miss Jenkins moved in. Oh, and the Martinezes moved in. They're crazier than the Kokoshkas. A couple more have come and gone, but that's the lot of it. You gonna drink that?" Arnold asked, pointing to her lemonade glass.

                "All yours," she said, handing it to him. "And tell your Grandma Eleanor loved the tea, and she'll have to join her next time."

                Arnold smiled. "She'd love that, and we'd all love to have Eleanor come over more often."

                Helga and Arnold both blushed, and they quietly focused on their food.

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤

                "Keep going straight."

                Arnold sighed and did as he was told. He was driving Helga home, and he quickly realized he was finally going to find out where she lived. It was strange. It seemed as if by simply knowing that one fact he would suddenly understand everything about her. He glanced at her. She was still staring out the window. _Maybe that's why she never wanted me to know._ They drove through another two lights. "When am I supposed to turn?"

                She sighed. "Ocean Avenue."

                _Ocean Avenue?_ He said nothing, but sat in utter shock. Helga lived on the most upscale street in all of Hillwood City, reserved for the elite of the elite, the crème de la crème. He snuck another glance at her. Her mood seemed to have quickly changed. She had seemed so happy and so at home at his house; now she seemed distant and reserved, pushing him away when they seemed to have gotten closer over the afternoon. He turned right and was quickly speechless at the buildings that put his old townhouse at Millen Creek to shame, and he hated to imagine what Sunset Arms would look like next to them. They continued in silence as Arnold stared wide-eyed at everything in front of him. "Arnold, for Pete's sake, it's only a street. Please don't wet yourself in my car."

                He ignored her. Everything seemed to become more luxurious as they drove on. "Turn here," she said finally, and it seemed to pain her to do so. His jaw dropped as he saw the twin buildings in front of him. "You live in the Lamoure Towers?"

                "Tower two," she said blandly. 

                The Lamoure Towers were owned by the family who had practically founded Hillwood City. They were the most powerful family in this half of Washington, and to live there you had to be very powerful in your own right.

                He pulled up in front of the second tower. "Put it in park," she said simply.

                A man quickly ran out of the building to Helga's side of the car. "Miss Pataki, now when did you get a chauffer?" he asked her as he helped her out of the car. "And what did you do to your ankle?"

                "Marquis, this is my friend Arnold. He drove me home since I twisted my ankle."

                "How sweet of him," Marquis said disdainfully. He looked Arnold up and down as he got out of the car and walked over to Helga and was clearly displeased at what he saw. Arnold guessed it was the fact that he was covered in mud, but Marquis did not seem to have a problem with Helga's similar look.

                "Arnold will help me upstairs. I'll see you later."

                "Yes, Miss Pataki. Have a good evening, Miss Pataki." Marquis shot Arnold one last look before getting in the car and driving away.

                "I guess I'll have to remember my tux the next time I visit you," Arnold said, trying to cheer Helga up, but she just shook her head.

                They walked together inside (the door was held open by another doorman, and there were more "Miss Pataki"s), and Arnold quickly led Helga to the elevator. He could tell she did not feel like talking to anyone. The man in the elevator took them up to the top floor. "Have a good evening, Miss Pataki. If you need anything, just call."

                Helga said nothing. _She's sputtering "thank you"s left and right at my house, but now she doesn't seem to give a damn, and they're doing a lot more for her._ _And damn, Helga lives in a penthouse!_

                "Well, now you know where I live," she said as they stopped in front of her door.

                "Oh no, you ain't getting rid of me now. I've helped you all day, and I'll be damned if you just let me turn you over to your parents like this."

                She stared up at him, and Arnold was floored to see tears begin to form in her brown eyes. "As you wish," she whispered, and she pushed the door open.

                It was like nothing Arnold had ever seen. The place was nearly as big as his entire _house_, and he felt as if he had just stepped into a house on MTV's _Cribs_. It was beautifully and tastefully decorated, unlike the Sawyer household. He merely gaped, trying to take everything in.

                "Arnold, do you mind not drooling on me?" Helga said, cutting through his thoughts.

                "Olga, is that you?" Big Bob hollered from somewhere in the apartment. Arnold felt Helga's knees weaken. He looked down at her, confused at her reaction.

                "I'm in the kitchen, Daddy!" Olga called.

                "Not you, the other girl!"

                "That's her, B. Who else would be coming in _now_?" Miriam snapped as she walked by, a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "You must be feeling better," she said, and continued on, not noticing Helga's wrapped ankle.

                "Where have you been, little lady?" he thundered as he entered the hall. "And who the hell are you?" he snapped at Arnold.

                "Out, _Dad_, and this is Arnold. He drove me home."

                "What'd you do, sneak out and get drunk? Goddamn it, Olga, if I've told you once I've told you a million times—"

                "Like I drink. I sprained my ankle running, Bob. Arnold drove me home since I obviously can't."

                Bob glared at Arnold. "You ain't expecting any reward, are ya boy? Cause you ain't getting one, that's for damn sure. This ain't no charity for orphan boys."

                "Arnold did it as a favor to me!" Helga cried. She looked like his comment had caused her more pain than it had Arnold. "Not that he'd get anything anyway. He could have saved me from a rapist or a murderer and you'd still spit on him or any other rescuer of mine! Hell, you probably wish I had gotten drunk and drove myself home!"

                "With an attitude like that, what father wouldn't?" He walked up to her and towered over her. "I give you everything in the world, and this is how you treat me?" He glanced at Arnold. "What was your name again?"

                "Arnold," he managed to say.

                "Right. Arnie, take her upstairs and then get the hell out. And if you dare lay a hand on her up there, I swear to God you'll find yourself in a potter's field—"

                "C'mon, Arnold," Helga hissed, pulling him away from her father. She started to fall, and Arnold caught her and quickly took her up to her room. She sat on her bed, and he had no idea what to say to her. He did not stare at all the awards on her wall or imported furniture or any of her other possessions; he could only stare at her.

                "Well, now you know," she whispered. 

                "Helga, I …" his words trailed off into nothingness. He stared at her. She looked so small sitting there alone. Helga was actually a tiny little thing, but her attitude generally made her seem a lot larger and scared the hell out of people. _Well, this is certainly scaring the hell out of me._

                She laughed coldly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to complain about things when you live in a place like this?" She stared at him. "It's gotten worse with every year an every dollar. They don't notice me unless I do something wrong or something that deals with money. Like today with me skipping that stupid Easter egg hunt."

                "They're always like that?"

                "Pretty much. With Bob it's worse when he's been drinking…Miriam's wasted all the time so that doesn't really matter with her." She stopped when she saw the horrified look on Arnold's face. "He's never hit me. Come close a couple times, mainly when I egg him on, but being ignored has done its damage all the same."

                Arnold turned his gaze away from her. It was almost too painful for _him_ to look at her, now knowing and having seen the horrors of her home life, and he had a sinking feeling that he had only seen the surface. He picked up a picture of the Patakis at what he assumed was Olga's graduation.

                "That's what I am expected to be."

                He turned to her. "A picture frame?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

                "I'm expected to be just like Princess Olga. Beautiful, smart, charming, and ready to do whatever my father tells me to do. Keeping up with all the appearances and being the model daughter so Bob can show me off to all his partners and every damn upper-class family in this town." She laughed. "Wow, I only fit one of those, and I'm only smart about half the time."

                "That's not true," Arnold muttered as he put the picture frame down.

                Helga watched him carefully as he stared at the plaques on her wall. "Look, Arnold, I appreciate everything that you have done for me today, but it's late, and you should probably be getting home."

                He looked at her. "You sure? I mean, Mom and Dad –"

                "Are probably wondering why you haven't come home yet." She picked up her phone and quickly dialed. "Marquis, it's Helga. Can you do me a favor? Drive Arnold home. Yes. Yes. _Yes._ Thank you, and good night." She hung up the phone and looked up at him. "Marquis will drive you home. Just wait for him at the front desk."

                Arnold stared at her, not ready to leave. She just glared back at him. "All right. Thank you." He walked over to her bed. "Lie back."

                Helga's eyes grew as larges as saucers. "What are you doing?"

                He sighed. "I'm trying to help you. Do you have to make things difficult? Now lie back and I'll put pillows under your bed so you can elevate your leg."

                "Oh."  Helga did what she was told. "Thanks."

                He stepped back. "Um, I'll go get some ice for you."

                "Do it and you'll be murdered." She smiled at him. "Ingrid, our housekeeper, can get it for me. Really, Hair Boy, you've done more than enough for me." 

                Arnold sure felt it was not enough, but it was clearly all she was going to let him do. "Fine. I'll be going then." He stepped closer to her, feeling as though he should do something more than just say good-bye, but he did not have a clue what. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Night, Helga."

                "Buenas noches," she replied.

                He quickly slipped out of her room and managed to get out of the penthouse without Big Bob noticing him (though the loud snoring from the living room meant he was probably asleep anyways). Arnold chose the stairwell to get downstairs. The guy in the elevator freaked him out, and he needed to think about things. _God, why didn't I ever realize how hard she would have it at home. Big Bob and Miriam were never model parents, and of course they'd get worse as they got richer._ He thought of his own home. Yes, they had nothing compared to the luxury that surrounded Helga's life and flooded her home, but he lived with people who cared about him, who would do anything for him, who loved him. That was certainly a lot more than Helga could say about her home.

                He walked into the lobby, and sure enough Marquis was waiting by the desk, the same disgusted look on his face. "Hello, Mr. Arnold."

                "Uh, hi," Arnold muttered nervously.

                "Miss Pataki requested that I drive you home, yes?"

                "That's what I was told." _What is this guy up to?_

                "Yes. Miss Pataki is very _charitable_."

                Arnold's eyes narrowed. 

                "But what Miss Pataki doesn't know won't hurt her, yes? Where do you live, Mr. Arnold?"

                "Vine Street," he snapped. "Is it really that hard for you to follow an order?"

                "Mr. Arnold, I don't take orders from you. Miss Helga was probably suffering some head trouble from her injury." He glared at Arnold. "Which probably was caused by _you_."

                "I would never hurt her!"

                "Miss Pataki is a debutante, Mr. Arnold. An heiress. She does not hang around street scum like you." His face parted in a smile. "And nor do I." He handed Arnold a wad of bills. "This should get you home."

                Arnold stared at his hand. He was positive the amount of money in his hand was more than enough to pay for a taxi home. "You're paying me off?"

                "Mr. Arnold, it is my job to look out for Miss Pataki's best interests, and I believe it would be in her best interests if you never stepped foot in this building again."

                Arnold glared at him. "You know, I don't give a damn about that money. Most honest people wouldn't," he spat as he walked to the door. "And if you knew Helga half as well as you think you do, you would know that _she_ wouldn't give a damn about it either!"

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤

                Arnold finally dragged himself up the stairs to Sunset Arms nearly two hours later. He had walked for a long time before he finally found a bus stop, and he changed buses twice before he found one that would get him anywhere near his house. He opened the door and weakly called, "I'm home."

                His grandpa was the first to come to the door. "Well where in the Sam Hill have you been, Short Man?"

                "Please, Grandpa, I don't want to talk about it."

                "Oh, all right, but that cute little girl called for you about a half hour ago."

                His face brightened. "Helga called?"

                "No, no, no. Lulu, Lola, no, no, Leila—"

                "Lila?"

                "Yes, that's the one!" He watched Arnold carefully. "I thought she was the one you were courtin'."

                "She is," Arnold said as he started up the stairs.

                "Then who's Helga?"

                "She's – she's a friend of mine, that's all." He sighed. "I was hoping she'd call. Helga's the girl that was here earlier."

                "Eleanor?"

                "Yeah, Eleanor." _Why the hell does everyone call Helga "Eleanor"?_

"Ah, yes, Eleanor. Fascinating young woman. Helluva First Lady." He hit Arnold's back a few times. "Well, you better get to calling your lady friend. She sounded like she really wanted to talk to you."

                "Right. Thanks Grandpa."

                "No problem, Short Man."

                Arnold went up to his room and threw himself on his bed. He stared at the stars. _So Lila's really starting to come around. _He laughed. _Look's like Helga's plan is working._ Arnold stared at the phone for a while, debating rather or not he should call Lila. He sighed. _She can wait until tomorrow. If I called her now, I'd just be thinking about Helga the whole time. It's generally not a good idea to talk to one girl you like while thinking about the other._ _There certainly is a lot more to Helga than meets the eye._

                He sat up. _But she was always like that, even when we were younger._ He laughed. _I guess I got what I wanted. Helga's here for me again._

_                But what she really needs is someone to be there for **her**._

A/N: Best CDs I've been playing non stop – _Ocean Avenue_ by Yellowcard, Story of the Year's _Page Avenue_, and Maroon 5's _Songs about Jane_. Music is a wonderful thing, and do you understand where I got Helga's street from? Haha, later days.


	8. The Quiet Things that No One ever Knows

A/N: If you want to know about updating practices by me (meaning when one will be coming and/or why I won't be updating that fast), look at my profile. 'Nough said.__

Disclaimer – I don't own _Hey Arnold!_ or any of the characters associated with it.

A Sure Thing

Chapter 8 – The Quiet Things that No One ever Knows

~ Monday, April 21 ~

                "Eew! How can you eat that?"

                Arnold looked up from his pepperoni pizza and stared at Lila. "Generally with my hands, but occasionally with a knife and fork," he replied. He was confused, but judging by Lila's toe-tapping, he assumed she wanted to eat with him. "Do you want to sit down?"  
                "Thank you," she said as she sat down in the chair to his right. "So, why didn't you call me last night? Your grandpa said you'd call me as soon as you got home."

                Arnold was desperately waiting for Gerald to come and sit with them. _What's taking him so long?_  He was not in the mood to talk to Lila. Oddly, his thoughts had been focused on Helga all morning. She did not eat during his lunch mod, but he saw her walk into school with crutches. He turned to Lila, who looked like a puppy waiting for a stick to be thrown. _What's wrong with you? The girl you like is practically begging for you to talk to her. Say something!_ "Uh, um, I got in late last night, so I just went to sleep. Grandpa actually didn't tell me you called until this morning." _Well, clearly honesty's not going to be a big part of this relationship._

"Oh, I see." Her face brightened, clearly happy that Arnold supposedly did not blow her off for one reason or another. She played with her salad. "I was ever so mad that it rained on Saturday. I was planning to go to your game." She smiled brightly at him and batted her eyelashes.

                "Oh, yeah? I was actually kind of thankful for it. I'd gotten a bit behind on my homework, so…" He took another bite of his food. _Where the hell is Gerald?_

                "Oh." 

                Arnold felt like slapping himself in the face. "But it would have been great if we did play. Yeah, you missed a chance to see a great game. We were going to play Creighton and they're really tough this year. They killed my friend Quin's team last week." Arnold laughed. "Man, all he did last week when we jammed was complain about how tough his coach was on his team."

                "Jammed?" She took a sip of her Evian. "What are you talking about?"

                "Well, I'm in a band. Uh, we actually all played baseball together when we were little, and we all just stayed friends and decided to form a rock band. Do you remember Corbin Jeffries?"

                She twirled her hair as she thought. "Oh, let's see…he's the short little kid who went to school with us at the end of elementary school and in junior high, right?" She made a face. "Wasn't he best friends with Helga?"

                "Yeah, still is, actually." His mind wandered back to the blond.

                Lila hit the table excitedly a few times. "Oh, oh, I remember him! Oh God, I had such a crush on him. I liked him ever so much!" she squealed.

                She got Arnold's attention back right away. "What?" he snapped.

                "Yeah," she breathed. "I can't believe I forgot about that. I was _crazy_ about the boy, just ever so crazy about him." She shook her head. "But he was in love with Helga, which was just a damn shame because she was always in love with –"

                "Hey, Lila! Whatcha doing over here?" Gerald asked as he sat down.

                "Hi, Gerald," Arnold spat through gritted teeth. Naturally, Gerald showed up just when he did not want him around. Arnold was far more interested in who Helga had always been in love with.

                "Oh, Arnold and I were just talking about who everybody liked when we were younger." She tilted her head, clearly trying to remember whom Gerald had crushed on.

                "What took you so long?" Arnold asked, cutting Lila off just before she was about to speak. Like always, he did not want Phoebe's name to be brought up around Gerald. Lila stared at him carefully, and Arnold was determined not to return her gaze, letting her think whatever she wanted to.

                Gerald groaned. "I ran into Rosalie. She kept asking me lame questions about prom." He took a bite of his hamburger. "Honestly, Arnold, I think I mighta made a wrong move by asking her."

                "Yer kin Rosalie Enriquez ooh rom?" Lila asked with her mouthful.

                "What?" the two boys asked simultaneously.

                Lila swallowed. "You're taking Rosalie Enriquez to prom?"

                Gerald made a face. "Yeah. What of it?"

                "Oh, nothing." Lila returned to her salad without another word.

                Arnold and Gerald exchanged confused glances. "Anyways, she said that—"

                "It's just that Rosalie's dating somebody from Roosevelt. At least that's what I heard." Lila said blandly as she took a drink of her water.

                "WHAT?" Gerald cried as he jumped out of his seat, grabbing the attention of the nearby tables.

                "Gerald, calm down," Arnold said as he pulled Gerald down.

                "Rosalie's dating _somebody else?_ That's impossible! She's crazy about me!"

                "Chill, Casanova." Arnold could not suppress a laugh. "Look on the bright side, at least now you know she's not looking for anything serious."

                Gerald looked at him. "Some friend you are, fuckin' bastard."

                "Gerald, I'm joking." He cast a glance at Lila and was floored to see that she had a slight smile on her face. She almost seemed _happy_ to see the turmoil her news had caused.

                "Right, funny joke," Gerald snapped as he began to stab his lunch. "Honestly, she's cheating on me! ME!"

                _As opposed to you cheating on somebody else._ Arnold did not know what do say. If he said what he really thought, which was it was bound to happen sometime, which was that perhaps Gerald had finally gotten what was coming to him, he had never really thought that much of Rosalie anyways (at least occurring to what he ever said about her to Arnold), and that you technically have to be dating someone for her to cheat on you, Gerald would probably knock his head off his neck before Arnold finished the sentence. Arnold shifted uncomfortably as Gerald's eyes dug into Arnold as he waited for him to say something that would ease the shock. Arnold looked to Lila for help, but she was staring across the cafeteria as she ate. "Maybe it's not true. After all, Lila said that was just all she heard. It might just be a bunch of bull and hearsay."

                Gerald looked somewhat relieved, but Lila's head snapped back to him at his comment. "Are you calling me a liar?" she demanded, fire in her green eyes.

                _Can't you see I'm trying to help Gerald!_ he cried mentally at her. "No, I'm merely suggesting that you may have been misinformed."

                Gerald must have felt better because he snorted with laughter at Arnold's politician-sounding response. _Well, at least I don't have to worry about him that much anymore, _Arnold thought grimly.

                "Misinformed? Are you saying you can't trust what I say?" To Arnold's amazement tears were coming to Lila's eyes.

                "No, Lila, I'm just saying that possibly the person who told you about Rosalie's supposed boyfriend maybe didn't have all the facts," he said slowly and carefully. He looked to Gerald for help, but his friend was too busy trying not to laugh hysterically in Lila's face.

                "Oh, so I'm not a liar, but my friends are?" She covered her mouth and swallowed hard. "Is that what you are saying, Arnold? Is it?"

                "No, Lila, that's not what I'm saying at all! I –" He was interrupted with the bell. "Lila—"

                "I don't want to talk to you right now, Arnold," she snapped as she stalked off.

                Arnold watched her go, still not sure if the last five minutes had actually happened. "What the hell just happened?"

                Gerald laughed. "Your girlfriend just played the crazy card, in a pretty big way I might add."

                Arnold picked up his tray and half listened as Gerald returned to complaining about Rosalie. _Lord, even Helga doesn't give me that big of a headache._

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤

                "Well, I talked to Rosalie," Gerald said as he and Arnold walked to their last period class.

                "And?"

                "And she said that she had started to see a boy from Roosevelt after I had already asked her to prom. She didn't tell me because she figured that I only wanted to go to prom with her and didn't want to make this any more serious than that, and she still wants to go with me but just as friends."

                "Ouch. So are you okay with this?"

                "Do I really have much choice? Who else am I going to find to go to prom with this late in the game?"

                Arnold frowned. "You know, I technically don't have a date at the moment, so could you try not to be so pessimistic?"

                Gerald shrugged. "Have you talked to the Drama Queen since lunch?"

                "Tried to. She said she couldn't bear to speak with me at the moment. How's that for the cold shoulder?" Arnold ran a hand through his messy blond hair. "Seriously, what did I say that was so bad?"

                Gerald grabbed the door handle. "I don't know. That girl lives in la-la land some days. Don't worry about it. She's probably just on her period."

                "So is that your excuse for every time some girl refuses you, Johannson?" a cold voice said behind them.

                "I'm sorry I offended you, Pataki, seeing as how you're eternally suffering from PMS." He turned around. "Oh, sorry, or is it that you are naturally a bitch?" He took a double take as he saw her on crutches. "What the hell happened to you?"

                "Ask Arnold, and if you don't mind I'd like to go sit down. As fascinating as I find your troubling love lives, I've got a test to get ready for."

                "At least we aren't dried up hags with no love life," Gerald snapped back, not moving an inch.

                "Ouch, that one hurt. Now that you have caused be so much psychological pain and have put me in my place, will you please _move?_" she asked dryly.

                "Gerald, would you just shut up and let her in?" Arnold said finally just as Gerald was about to open his mouth.

                Helga and Gerald's jaws both dropped, but Helga was the first to recover. "You heard the little man."

                Gerald opened and held the door open for her and watched her hop along. "Since when do you defend Helga G. Pataki?"

                Arnold avoided Gerald's eyes as he walked into the classroom. "Just, just cut her some slack. She has to deal with enough as it is."

                Gerald's eyebrows rose. "Well, _this_ can't be good," he muttered as he sat down beside Arnold.

                "Everyone, we have a lot of work to do, so please calm down. The AP test is only a few weeks away, and you have got to get ready," their teacher Mr. Heinrich said quickly. "Now, I am going to break you into groups to review over the material for the test."

                "What if you aren't taking the test?" Mallory Hodges asked.

                "Then go over the information in chapter twenty-seven, I don't care. Now you three are together, you three," he continued to point people in their groups as he walked around the room. "And you three, that's the last of ya," he said, pointing to Arnold, Gerald, and Helga. "Now, if you have any questions I'm ready to help…"

                "Great, we get to work with Helga," Gerald said sarcastically.

                "Gerald."

                "What? I'm excited to work with my best friend Helga," he said with a horrible smile on his face.

                "Ugh, I didn't think you could get any uglier, but clearly I was wrong," Helga said as she sat down in the seat beside Arnold.

                "Helga."

                "Helga, my dear, you are just like a bright ray of sunshine in my life. I don't think I tell you that enough," Gerald said to her.

_                "Gerald."_

"And I don't think I tell you enough what a pain in the ass you are to me."

                _"Helga."_

                "Oh, but what a fine, fat ass you have, Helga."

                "Would you two please shut up?" Arnold cried. "Honestly!"

                "Fine by me," Helga said as she pulled out a pile of notes. Gerald and Arnold followed in suit, and the three sat studying in silence.

                "Why did we take this class again?" Arnold whispered to Gerald after five minutes.

                "Because when we signed up, Mrs. Greenly was planning on teaching it, but she decided to go and have a baby, so we got stuck with the only other teacher who was qualified to teach AP US History, and you are looking at that disaster right now."

                "Just out of curiosity, does everything in your lives have to revolve around a beautiful woman?" Helga asked without looking up.

                "No, Helga, because at the moment we are stuck with you," Gerald snapped.

                She raised her head and stared at him. "Gerald, seriously, you have to get over me. It never would have worked out, and this juvenile attempt of insulting me because of your rejection is just silly. Can't we grow up and get over this?"

                "Like I would ever be interested in you, and God help anyone who ever will be," Gerald snapped.

                "Oh, yes, that's right. You never liked _me,"_ she said.

                Arnold watched her carefully. _Helga, please don't bring that up. Please, Helga, for the love of God, please!_

"You supposedly liked my best friend, but you had a very funny way of showing it." Her eyes flashed. "Maybe Rosalie really does see you as more than just a prom date. Oh, wait, that would mean that she would have slept with the boy from Roosevelt. Oops, my mistake."

                Gerald's face turned to stone.

                "Helga, drop it," Arnold pleaded

                "No, Arnold, I'm not going to drop it. Stop trying to protect him. Gerald was clearly man enough to have sex with a girl who wasn't his girlfriend, so he should be man enough to live with his mistakes." She glared at Gerald. "And trust me, he'll be paying for that one until the day he dies."

                "You fucking bitch," Gerald spat at her, murder in his eyes.

                Helga returned to her paper. "Say what you want to say to me, Gerald. It doesn't change the fact that she hates you, and that you are the reason she's not here anymore."

                "That's a fucking lie, and you know it!"

                "Don't tell me what I know or don't know. Remember, Gerald, _I'm_ the one she still talks to!"

                Gerald was shaking head to toe. He turned to Arnold. "You keep your business partner shut up, Arnold, unless you want me to do more damage to her."

                Helga remained stoic, and Arnold was relieved to see Gerald regain some of his composure, and the three sat in silence for the next hour. Arnold did not get anything done, however. He had too much on his mind with the problems with Lila, Helga, and Gerald. The last bell rang, and Arnold had to admit he had never heard such a sweet sound.

                "Helga?" Gerald asked as he stood up.

                She glared up at him as she packed her bag.

                "You know, maybe you are right. I probably will regret that until the day I die, but at least I had her. I didn't spend my whole life chasing after something I could, or will, ever have." He leaned forward. "I can promise you that."

                Her expression did not change as Gerald left, but Arnold could not help but notice the deep pain that was in her eyes. "Why did you have to bring that up?" he asked her.

                She searched his eyes anxiously to find some form of empathy. "I'm sorry, Arnold, I really am."

                Arnold sighed, not wanting to believe her for Gerald's sake.

                "But it killed me to see it kill her."

                Arnold watched Helga leave, wondering how he could have forgotten how much Helga had care about her. The scandal from the year before clearly was not about to go away from their minds any time soon, and it was probably going to be the biggest obstacle between his friendship between Gerald and his uncertain relationship with Helga.

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤

                "Where are you going?" Gerald asked as he and Arnold walked out of the locker room after practice.

                "To watch the softball game."

                "Are you serious?"

                "That's what I was planning to do this morning, so I figure why not? Even with everything that happened today."

                Gerald grabbed Arnold's arm. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

                Arnold turned around. "What do you want me to say, Gerald? I have nothing to say."

                He crossed his arms. "She listens to you, Arnold. Helga's always listened to what you say. Why didn't you stop her? You knew that was coming up, I know you did."

                "Gerald, Helga doesn't stop when I tell her to anymore than you do. I don't know where you get the idea that I've got such an effect on her."

                They walked in silence. Arnold waited for Gerald's next comment as he opened the door and started towards the softball diamond. "You still should've done something other than just sit there."

                Arnold kicked a pebble. "That's between you two."

                "Damnit, Arnold, it's almost as if you think she had a point! God, I'm your best friend! What's she?"

                He rolled his eyes. "Fine, Gerald. Helga overstepped that line, but we all know you pushed her close to it."

                _"Excuse me?"_

                "Gerald, would you please admit that that whole mess caused Helga a lot of pain too? Yeah, you lost a girlfriend, but she lost her best friend. Probably her only one, and one of the few people who genuinely cared about her."

                Gerald stared at Arnold, and it crossed Arnold's mind that he was going to beat the tar out of him. "What has happened to you?" He paused, and a look of horror washed over his face. "Oh, God, please tell me I'm imagining things."

                "What?"

                "You're falling for Helga, Arnold. There is no other way you would be defending her like this, not with me."

                "That's—that's crazy. I mean, I like Lila—" he stammered.

                "Today at lunch you looked like you wanted to be as far away from her as possible. And I know what you two were talking about before I came. You wanted to know who Helga liked."

                "I—I was just curious, that's all," Arnold stammered, his face bright red.

                "Bullshit, Arnold. Ever since you two agreed to that deal, you've been acting different. You've been asking all types of questions about Helga as if you can't get enough of her. And how long were you around her yesterday?"

                "What?"

                "I called your house like three times, yesterday, and you were either out with her, with her at your house, or at her house."

                Arnold blushed even more. "Look, yesterday was crazy, and that's one time—"

                "That's probably longer than all the time you've ever spent alone with Lila!" he cried. 

                "She needed my help, okay? She sprained her ankle if you didn't notice!"

                "And I'm sure you were right there to help nurse her back to health."

                Arnold groaned out of frustration. "Yes! Are you happy? That's what friends do. They help each other. What'd you expect me to do, leave her laying there?"

                "Yes!" He stopped and frowned at Arnold. "Since when is Helga G. Pataki your friend?"

                "What does it matter?" Arnold asked in exasperation. 

                "It matters a hell of a lot. That girl's put you and me through hell—"

                "Only because she was in it too!"

                Gerald glared at Arnold in disbelief. "You know what, why don't you call me whenever the real Arnold steps back into your body, okay? That means when you realize that you are throwing away a great girl for something so ridiculous and useless." He turned to leave.

                "You know what, Gerald? How about you give me advice when you have room to give it," Arnold said instinctively.

                Gerald turned around. "Since when is my advice not good enough for you?" he asked coolly.

                Arnold sighed. _Well, the toe's already on the line._ "Since you had sex with some freshman when you had a great girl like Phoebe."

                Gerald looked as if he had just been slapped. "Forget calling me at all, Arnold. Throw away your whole God damn life, see if I care."

                "Gerald—"

                "Save it." He shook his head. "She's already had too much of an affect on you anyways."

                Arnold watched him leave before heading over to the ball diamond. "Great," he muttered as he watched cars drive away and the last of the remaining fans file out of the bleachers. _Just great. Wonderful, really. I mean, who needs a best friend anyways?_

                "Looking for me?" Helga asked, leaning against a parking post for support.

                Arnold walked over to her. "Yeah, I was, but I guess I'm a little late."

                She shrugged. "You didn't miss much anyways. We were shut out again, and I got the pleasure of watching the whole thing from the bench. Trainer said it's not too bad but I should give it another day to rest before I start practicing on it again," she said, watching his eyes fall to her ankle.

                "Look's like you didn't miss much then."

                "No, I pretty much saw everything."

                He eyed her, frowning slightly.

                She looked away. "I saw you and Gerald fighting, quite animatedly might I add."

                "Yeah," he said simply.

                "I'm assuming it was about earlier," she started slowly.

                "Yes, it was," he snapped. "Why didn't you just let it go?"

                She gave him a sheepish look. "Personality malfunction. When do I ever let those things go?"

                He looked away from her, slightly disgusted with everything.

                "Look, I'm sorry."

                "I don't blame you," he said quickly, cutting her off from completely defending herself.

                She was surprised. "You don't?" she asked in disbelief.

                "No, I'm not." He kicked a pebble. "I don't know why, but I don't blame you at all. Well, maybe a little, but Gerald…he just doesn't want to deal with the fact that he messed up royally. I guess he'd rather forget it ever happened."

                "You were defending me, weren't you?" she asked flatly.

                "Pretty much." He looked at her, awaiting her reaction.

                "You don't have to—"

                "I wanted to."

                She stared at him.

                "I mean, you know, since Gerald's acting like a … can we talk about something else?" he asked desperately, squirming under her gaze.

                "Sure," she said, looking as relieved as Arnold. "So Lila was talking a lot about you today in Spanish."

                "Not that," he said under his breath. She heard him anyways.

                "Is there something I'm missing here?"

                He said nothing.

                "Look, Hair Boy, if you are getting cold feet about this, tell me now because I don't want to waste my time—"

                "Can we just talk about something that doesn't have to do with those two?"

                "Sure," Helga said.

                He closed his eyes tight. He was not comfortable with the fact that his behavior was making her scared.

                "So, how's Cory and the rest of Called Strike Three?" she asked, frantically trying to make him happy and end the silence.

                Lila's words echoed in his head. _But he was in love with Helga…_ "No, not about Cory either!"

                Helga's eyes were wide as she stared at him.

                He was about to ask something lame about their English paper, but he was cut off as a horn sounded from a black limonene. "I'm guessing that's yours?" he asked her.

                Helga frowned. "I told Marquis to pick me up in something normal."

                He shrugged. "So that explains the regular-sized limonene."

                She hit him. "Shut up."

                "Sorry," he said, laughing softly.

                She frowned.

                "Aren't you going to go?" Arnold asked. Marquis was glaring at him, and he was not in the mood to deal with a snobbish bellboy.

                "Look, Arnold—"

                A funny feeling filled him as she said his name.

                "I just wanted to thank you for, um, you know, defending me and taking care of me yesterday. I know how hard that must have been for you, but don't feel obligated to do it."

                Her face was bright pink, and Arnold could not remember ever seeing her more beautiful. "I didn't do it because I felt obligated, Helga. I wanted to," he whispered, his voice slightly deeper than normal. He met her intense gaze, practically drowning in it, desperately fighting the urge to do something crazy, although it almost felt natural to want to touch her lips with his own…

                "Well, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, bending down to pick up her bag.

                He blinked, coming out of his daze. "Right. Um, be careful," he said lamely. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

She smiled weakly at him. "Right. Adios."

                "Bye," he said as she limped to the car, his head spinning from the last ten minutes. _I almost kissed Helga G. Pataki…_

_                This can't be good._

¤ ~ ¤ ~ ¤__

                "Arnold, there you are!" his mother cried when he finally arrived home.

                "Hi, Mom," he said as he threw himself on the couch. He was not in the mood to talk about his day, but such an activity was nearly impossible to avoid with his mother.

                Stella moved his feet and sat down at the end of the couch. "Lila called."

                "Oh?" he asked, trying desperately to sound pleasantly surprised.

                And apparently failing miserable at it. "Don't you want to call her back? She seemed upset that you weren't home."

                "Mom, don't worry, I'll call her back. Just give me a minute."

                She stared at him. "Arnold, you better not be leading this girl on."

                He rolled his eyes. "I'm not leading her on, Mom! If anything, she's taking me for a ride."

                She raised an eyebrow. "And what about Helga. What are you doing with her?"

                He propped himself on his elbows to see her better. "What? What are you talking about?"

                Stella struggled to find words. "Arnold, are you leading her on?"

                "No! Helga and I are just friends."

                "Well, only a few days ago you were going on and on about how insufferable she is."

                "She is!"

                "But now she's your friend? Arnold, you spend a lot of time talking, thinking, and worrying about that girl, rather it be good or bad."

                He frowned. "What are you saying?"

                She patted his feet and got up. "I'm saying maybe you should rethink things bit." 

                "I don't know what to do!" he cried as she started to leave. He was treading in unknown waters; he normally talked to his father or grandfather about such matters, but Stella had a way of getting words out of his mouth before they even formed in his mind.

                "You don't know what to do about what, honey?" she asked as she walked back to the couch, leaning on the back and staring down at him.

                He sighed. "I've liked Lila for ages, but now that I'm finally getting to know her, I'm staring to think that she's not what I thought I was."

                Stella shrugged. "It happens, Arnold. Now what's really the matter?"

                "I think I might like Helga, but I'm not supposed to like her." He looked frantically up at her. "Why do I like her?"

                She smiled. "Maybe you've finally been able to see what's been there all along. The good in Helga, and the not-so-good in Lila." She ruffled his hair. "Don't think too much about it, Arnold. The answer will come to you plain as day." She glanced down at him. "Just don't do anything to hurt either girl, Arnold. You're better than that, and they deserve that."

                He nodded. "Thanks, Mom."

                She nodded as well. "Oh, don't forget to empty the dishwasher."

                Groaning, he dragged himself into the kitchen. Skipping dinner and his homework, he quickly took a shower and headed up to bed, again deciding not to call Lila back. He was not in the mood to listen to her gossip or talk about the new dress Ellen was going to buy her. The more and more Arnold listened to her talk, the more convinced he was that there was not much to her. _Maybe Helga was right all these years…_

                He smiled at the memory of the evening and of the feeling he had when he was around her. It felt like the world was made for the sole purpose of making sure they were together at that moment, that there was no possible way he could ever be unhappy if she was near him. Every bad thought and feeling escaped him, replaced by only the most blissful happiness. To think of how soft her lips would feel on his, how perfectly she would fit in his arms, how he wanted to spend the rest of forever with her was nothing but euphoric. 

                "An angel of darkness for my paradise…" he whispered as he closed his eyes.

                _Yes, I'm definitely in trouble._

A/N: So I lied, but I need to update this, since half of it was written anyways… Later days.


	9. Float on

A/N: …

Disclaimer – I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

A Sure Thing

Chapter 9 – Float On

-Wednesday, April 23-

SMACK!

Arnold watched the softball sail over the left-center field fence. He rolled his eyes as Helga began running around the bases, laughing her head off and leaping every two steps. "Your ankle seems to be better."

She twirled in the air. "I'm a fast healer." She leapt onto home plate and bowed. "Thank you, thank you."

He crossed his arms as she stepped back into the box. "Obviously you've never heard of good sportsmanship when it comes to hitting homeruns."

Helga responded by hitting a line drive up the middle, nearly taking Arnold's head off and causing him to drop to the dirt.

"How'd you do that?" he cried, pushing himself up and dusting himself off.

She blew on her nails. "Just something I picked up."

Arnold shook his head. He was having the time of his life. Earlier he had pitched a one-hitter against Corbin's team (striking Cory out twice, although his friend did get the one hit). He was now helping Helga out under the bright lights, and he could not think of anywhere else he would rather be. Forgotten was Lila and Gerald, both of whom were not talking to him at the current moment, forgotten was his chemistry homework that was waiting for him, and he had even forgotten about how hungry he was because he had not eaten since lunch. All that mattered was the girl in front of him, and Arnold was so happy he did not even care about how much that scared him. "How is it that you aren't starting now? I mean, you're hitting better than some of the boys on our team."

She brightened. "Really?"

He smirked as he started his windup. "I said some." (Helga nearly hit him in the shin.) "But seriously, why not?"

Helga spit into the grass. "Apparently I have an attitude problem."

"Hmm, I never would have suspected you, Helga, would have an attitude problem."

"Shove it."

Arnold tilted his head and stared at her. He noticed she was shifting under his gaze. "What?" she demanded. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Helga…" he started, struggling to find words. "You're not that bad."

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, Arnold. You're just swell, too."

"No. I mean, it's just…" He paused, trying to find the best way to talk to Helga without her discovering how much he cared about her.

She frowned. "What is it?" she asked softly. It was enough to drive him up a wall, in a good way.

"Sometimes you're really nice and sorta…sweet."

She put her hands to her head. "Oh, God."

"I'm serious, Helga! When you don't put on that stupid little façade you're a hell of a lot more likable than you are with that get-out-of-my-way-or-I'll kick-your-ass attitude." He kicked a stone and looked away from her. "It gets old and no one likes to be treated like that."

Helga blushed, and tried to hide her anger, but her temper got the best of her. "Do you think I act like that on purpose? It just happens!" She grabbed her stuff.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he followed her, leaving his glove and the balls on the field.

"Somewhere where I don't have to listen to this crap."

He groaned. "Would you just talk to me? Can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

She spun around, catching him off guard. He barely stopped from running into Helga, putting himself about three inches from her. "What's wrong, Arnold, is that you want to change me. You want me to act like Olga, or hell, maybe you want me to be like Lila. Well, let me tell you something, Arnold, I'M NOT THEM. They are fake. Yes, Lila's fake. Olga's fake. My parents are fake and so are most of the people in school. Just let me wear my emotions on my sleeve, and let me be pissed when I want to be pissed and happy when I want to be happy." With one last disgusted look she turned and continued to her car.

"I don't want you to be like Lila, Helga. I want you to be you. It's just people don't like being treated like shit." He paused. "Why do you think Phoebe broke up with Gerald, or why do you loathe your parents so much?" He turned to go and pick up his things on the diamond.

"I'm sorry," she said softly after a few minutes of standing in the parking lot watching him pick up softballs.

He turned. "What?"

She slowly walked back towards him. "I said I'm sorry." She shrugged. "I guess you're right. I suppose I could try to be nicer." She looked at him, pleading for acceptance.

He smiled. "Don't change too much."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Let's just say you are very entertaining, Helga. Exhausting, yes, but very entertaining. Besides, I need somebody to put me in my place sometimes." He laughed. "You know, I actually miss being called 'Football Head'." He pointed at her. "But a deal's a deal before you get any ideas."

Helga blushed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Arnold."

"Good night, Helga."

-

-Thursday, April 24-

Helga tapped her foot impatiently on the side of her chair. She was sitting on a veranda across from her archrival and drinking cold coffee. She stole a glance at the clock. _Damn._ She was supposed to meet Arnold in ten minutes. She chewed her lip and stirred her coffee absentmindedly, planning her great escape.

"Helga? Are you listening to me?" Lila asked shrilly, breaking Helga's train of thought.

"Sure, Arnold was rude Monday, questioning the validity of your stories, he hasn't returned your calls, and you think that there's someone else." _Thank God Arnold told me the whole story yesterday._ She threw in that last part because she did vaguely hear that at some point while Lila was droning on, and she was finding it very hard not to think that she might be the other girl…

"Well?" Lila asked, sipping her latte.

Helga frowned at Lila's pinkie, which was actually pointed out. "Well what?"

"Well, what should I do?" Lila demanded.

_Since when did I become Princess Pill's number one gal pal?_ Helga wondered. "Well, maybe you should give you and Arnold a rest for a while, you know? Reflect on it and see how important he is to you." _There, I'm not completely killing Arnold's chances with her; it will still be her own choice to forget about my lovely Football Head. See, no guilt on my conscience today!_

"And risk loosing him to another girl forever?" Lila shook her head, causing her curls to bounce (Helga decided she looked like a redheaded Little Bo Beep, especially in her frilly pink sundress. It was nearly enough to make her puke). "No, I can't do that. He means too much to me!"

_Two weeks ago you didn't even know Arnold still existed!_ "You really feel that strongly about him?"

Lila nodded. "Of course. Oh, I like him ever so much." She paused. "I wonder who the other girl is…"

_But Arnold doesn't return your phone calls. He calls me more than he calls you (never mind the fact that he mostly calls to talk about you, but that's died down lately). Arnold nursed me back to health and defended me against his best friend. He kissed me on the cheek, takes me to his house, and doesn't want to leave **me**. He never even talks about you anymore._ Helga smiled, suddenly feeling much better. "Lila, I really don't think you have anything to worry about." _Because there's no way you can compete with me._

"Really?" She looked hopeful.

Helga stared at her curls and smiled. "Really really."

Lila sat back, smiling. Helga was grinning as well, but for much different reasons. She looked at the clock again. 7:20. She stood up quickly.

"Helga, where are you going?" Lila asked, clearly confused as to why anyone would want to leave dinner with her early.

"I have a meeting to get to." Helga threw a few bills on the table. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. Bye, Helga," Lila called, but Helga was already gone. She jumped into her car and drove as quickly as she could across town to where she and Arnold practiced. It was 7:35 by the time she arrived, and Arnold was nowhere to be found.

"Damn it." Helga drove home, cursing herself for missing a chance to be alone with Arnold. An even worse thought occurred as she spotted a billboard for a casino.

_Arnold's going to make me do something horrible for this._

-

Arnold stepped out of the florist, his wallet much more empty than it was ten minutes earlier. _I can't believe Helga stood me up._ He kicked a broken beer bottle as he walked. In spite of himself, he had really looked forward to seeing her. He sighed. Helga haunted his every thought anymore. She was what he thought about before he fell asleep, and she was his first thought in the morning. He was even beginning to dream about her regularly. If he did not know better, he would think he was falling in love with her.

_But that's ludicrous,_ he thought.

_Isn't it?_

_Why's that so crazy?_ A voice asked in his head.

_Because it's Helga._

_So? She's beautiful, funny, talented, and complete in need of someone. She's much better than Lila, who doesn't have an original thought in her head._

Arnold frowned. Lila turned out to be much different that who he thought she was. She was a bore and a drama queen. She was predictable, unlike Helga. With Helga, you never knew where you stood with her or what would happen next. She was spontaneous and so full of life…she made him feel alive…

_If that's not love, what is?_ the voice asked.

_I'm falling in love with her._

"Arnold!" A gasp. "Are those for me?"

He smiled. "Of course they are for you. Who else?"

She threw herself at him, and Arnold gladly held her close, careful not to crush the flowers. But something was wrong. He looked down. The girl he was holding was shorter, thinner, and her hair was red…

He'd imagined Helga, but he was holding Lila.

_Shit._

She pulled away. "Oh, Arnold, you're ever so sweet." She frowned as she looked at him. "What's wrong?"

Arnold blinked and quickly recovered. "Uh, nothing, Lila. I'm, uh, just surprised to see you."

She smelled the flowers. "What's the occasion?"

_Helga sprained her ankle and is still playing awesome, plus her family sucks,_ he thought dimly. "I just wanted to apologize for Monday and for being too busy to call you back," he lied, feeling worse with every word that came out of his mouth. _Why am I leading her on? Just tell her the truth!_

"Oh, Arnold!" She kissed him on the cheek. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I really have to get home. Ellen doesn't want me out to late because my grades are slipping, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Right. Bye, Lila."

"Good night, Arnold."

He looked up at the sky for answers, but saw nothing but a cloudy sky. He hailed a cab and went over to Helga's; the only thing keeping his mood good was the thought of her. His thoughts went back to their conversation the day before, and he realized how fake he was acting to Lila and how truly unfair he was treating both girls.

He walked into her building and cursed silently as he saw Marquis standing just inside the door. "Can I help you, _sir?_" he asked mockingly.

"Is Helga Pataki here?"

He smirked. "I am sorry, but Miss Pataki is not taking any visitors, seeing as she is currently, er, indisposed."

"So she is here?"

"No, but even if she was I could not let you see her. Sorry, and good day." He gestured for him to leave.

"And why is that?" Arnold demanded.

The door opened behind him. "Would you two both relax? I could hear you fighting outside."

Arnold turned and smiled. "Helga."

"Miss Pataki, I was merely—"

"Refusing to show my dear friend some hospitality." She glared. "You better hope my parents get home too late for me to tell them about this little incident."

Marquis turned bright red. "Yes, Miss Pataki, I shall hope for it."

She rolled her eyes and pulled Arnold's arm. "Let's go."

A shock flowed through his body, and he felt his heart jump. He grinned back at a sneering Marquis as he and Helga stepped into the elevator. "Some timing, huh?"

She realized that she was still holding his hand. Helga let go quickly and pressed the button for the penthouse. "Yeah." Her face was bright red, but Arnold guessed his was the same hue. "So, what brings you by?"

"I came to see if you were okay since you didn't show up."

"Oh, uh, I um, was running late, and you were gone by the time I got there."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They stood in silence until the doors opened again. Arnold followed Helga inside the empty house. "Where's everybody?"

"Out. I'm home alone. Well, not now, but, well, you know what I mean," she finished quickly.

"Right," he muttered.

She walked into the living room. "So, I'm okay…is there anything else?"

Arnold shifted his weight awkwardly onto his other leg. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," she said quickly. She cleared her throat. "No, I mean, you don't have to go, I just don't want you to keep you from anything important, like calling Lila back or something." She flipped threw the pile of mail that was lying on the table.

He sat down. "I wasn't planning on calling her tonight."

"Oh?" Helga asked, finally looking squarely at him. "Why not?"

"Because I ran into her before I came over here."

"Oh." Helga viciously opened a letter. "And how did that go? Did you finally ask her to prom?"

"No. Actually, can we not talk about Lila?" _It's making me feel like slime,_ he thought.

"Fine." She put the pile down. "What do you want to talk about?"

He looked at her leg. "So the ankle's okay?"

"Yes, Arnold, it's fine. I told you, I'm a fast healer."

_So you just wanted to miss a chance to be with me,_ he thought grimly. _Wait a minute…_ He smiled at her.

Helga frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Helga, do you happen to remember part of our agreement?" he asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

She pouted, causing him to burst into laughter. "Damn," she wined. "I was hoping you'd forget that part."

"Now, what should I make you do? It has to be something good, since this was your idea, and you figured I'd be the one who'd stand you up."

"I also figured you'd be too nice to do anything to me."

Arnold laughed. "Seems like all that verbal abuse has caused me to get a backbone, or, as you tend to put it, grow a pair."

She groaned. "I really should learn to keep my mouth shut."

Arnold walked around the penthouse, quickly realizing that Helga was right. He was too nice to do this, or at least to come up with anything good. He leaned against the bar in the kitchen spotted a piece of bright turquoise cloth. _She hates to be like Olga…_

_Payback time._

He returned to the living room, keeping the clothes behind his back. "Helga, I decided to take it easy on you. I'm only going to make you wear something to school. Just school, and that's all."

She stood up and looked at him. "What are you going to make me wear?"

He threw the pile of clothes at her.

She caught the wad and examined it. "No, no, no, and no. You can't make me!" she cried. She held up a tiny, sparkly halter-top and an even tinier black micro-mini skirt.

"With heels." He added.

"Arnold, please don't make me wear this! These are Olga's clubbing clothes, and I'm about three inches taller than her! Do you have any idea how short that is on me?" she cried.

_Now that's a **very** nice thought._ He shook his head. "No, Helga, you know the rules, especially since you made them up. You have to do what I say and I say you have to wear those, with high heels, and underwear and a bra to school, but nothing else." He smiled at her. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I believe this is what they call payback."

"I can't wear heels, you dolt, I just sprained my ankle!" She was turning redder every second.

"I believe you said it was fine and that you were a fast healer."

She sighed. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

He shook his head. "But, I am sorry to say, I've got to get going, but I am thoroughly looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Pervert."

"Good night, Helga."

She threw a magazine at him as he walked to the door. _Yes, I'm definitely looking forward to tomorrow._

-

-Friday, April 25-

Helga apparently decided that it was a good day to sleep in, because Arnold did not see her at all before first period. He had spent the great majority of his chemistry class staring into space, wondering if she was going to chicken out or not. She certainly did not seem happy about it, but that was the point. He would not make her do something easy or something that she would not mind doing. No, Helga had put herself in that position by trying to control _him._

Besides, Helga had great legs, and he was going to enjoy staring at them.

"Psst, Arnold."

He looked over and raised his eyebrows. _How'd I miss the fact that Gerald's sitting beside me?_ "I'm trying to pay attention."

"Arnold, you and I both know you don't give a flying shit about enzymes."

"True." He turned slightly in his desk. "What is it?"

"I, uh, just wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. Maybe Helga's right, and maybe you're right for siding with her."

"Maybe?" Arnold asked skeptically.

"Okay, you were right." Gerald paused. "I guess I was just upset that you took her side and not mine and that you two have been spending so much time together."

"Gerald, that's so sweet, but please stop crushing on me."

He snorted. "If anyone would be gay out of the two of us, it would be you, Mr. Sensitive." He smirked. "Though I have to admit I'd be hanging around Helga as much as you have if she dressed the way she did today all the time."

Arnold's eyes widened. "You saw her? I was looking all over for her earlier."

Gerald blew a large bubble with his gum. "She was rushing to her first class, quite early to be honest." He shook his head. "Poor thing, she crossed the hunting ground of the wrestling team and got lots of cat-calls." He stared off into space. "Damn she has a nice ass."

"Gerald!" Arnold spat.

"Oh, sorry. But really, Arnold!"

Arnold frowned and tried to suppress the urge to punch Gerald. "What about Rosalie?"

Gerald leaned back. "Well, she's 'seeing'," he made air quotes, "that boy from Roosevelt or whatever, and we are just going to prom as friends."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Sure. That means I get to go after whomever I want without having to worry about her feelings. Actually, I think I like this better." He stopped and stared at Arnold. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you think I treat women badly."

"You do, but you knew I already thought that," Arnold said vaguely.

"Okay, so what's wrong?"

"I think I made a huge error in judgment."

"Okay, you've lost me."

Arnold swallowed hard. "I'm falling for Helga. Hard."

Gerald shrugged.

"That's it? I tell you that I'm failing in love with someone and that's all you can do?"

"Well, I figured that. You've always been a little soft on her, so I figured it was only a matter of time. Not my first choice of a girl, but to each his own." He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm the reason why she's dressed like that today. I made her do it as part of a bet-type thing."

"Oh, well, uh." He paused. "Good luck with that."

_I am such an idiot. Helga's going to kill me._

-

"Ow, Pataki, break me off a piece of that ass!"

"Oh, but save a piece for me!"

Arnold locked eyes with Helga briefly before she walked past him in the lunch line. She did not look mad. It was much worse; she looked like she did not feel anything. She went to sit down with Mickey, but he noticed that all the boys, and some of the girls, were all making nasty comments about her. _This cannot be happening._

"Ugh, can you believe her, Arnold?" Lila asked behind him.

"Who?" he asked, praying that she was not about to start talking about Helga.

"Helga, of course." Lila crossed her arms. "Can you believe she'd wear something like that to school? She's such a slut."

Arnold turned on her. "She's not a slut, Lila. Being a slut requires you to sleep around, and she doesn't do that."

Lila rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe not, but still, Arnold. _Look_ at her. I guess she just wanted attention from all the guys." She sneered. "I hate girls like that. And to think I listened to her for relationship advice yesterday." She stuck out her bottom lip. "Last time I'll ever talk to her about that stuff again. My God, taking advice from someone who dresses like a hooker? She'll probably next be telling me about the best birth control drugs."

"I told you, Lila, she doesn't sleep around or do anything close to that," Arnold spat through gritted teeth. "Wait, when did you talk to Helga yesterday?"

"Mmm, before I ran into you. We were having a light dinner, but she rudely ran off for some meeting." She rolled her eyes. "Probably some meeting with a thirty year-old man in a crap-hole motel."

"That's where she was last night, talking about relationship advice with you?" he demanded.

"Mm-hmm. See," she blushed. "I was getting a little worried about us, so I talked to Helga about it." She smiled. "But I won't have to worry about that anymore, now will I?"

"I'm sorry, Lila, but I just remembered I have to go take care of something." He left her before he heard her response. He was halfway across the room when he collided with one of the freshmen on the JV baseball team.

"Watch it!" the kid cried. "Oh, sorry, Arnold. I didn't realize it was you."

"It's okay. Excuse me." He tried to get by but the kid would not move.

"Hey, Arnold, did you see what Helga Pataki's wearing today? Damn, I wish every girl'd dress like that. See ya."

Arnold could feel his blood boiling. What gave all these perverted boys and mean-spirit girls the right to talk about Helga like that? Nothing was different about her except the clothes she was wearing. She was the same old Helga, but now everyone thought she was some easy whore and nothing else, and nothing could be further form the truth.

_And I'm to blame._

"You stupid asshole! Get off me!"

He looked up and saw Helga rushing away from a group of senior boys. "Helga—"

She did not stop, but he saw the tears sparkling in her eyes. He followed her out of the cafeteria and into the courtyard. "Helga. Helga! Wait up, please!"

"Go away, Arnold! Don't you think you've done enough?"

"Helga—"

She turned to stare at him, tears failing freely down her face. "Tell me, Arnold, have you ever had a group of sleazy senior boys grab your ass? Well, have you?" she cried when he did not answer.

"No."

"Have you ever been called a slut and a whore by your classmates?"

He swallowed hard. "No."

"Have you ever been treated like dirt by hundreds of people at a time? Because that's what's happened to me today. And lucky me, the day's only half over. Congratulations, you have me completely at your mercy, and I hope you got your payback." She fell to the ground with one loud sob.

He watched her for a few seconds, unable to move. "Can you please just call me an asshole or hit me or something? Please stop crying." _I can't stand you watch you so hurt._

She sniffed. "Arnold, this is so much more than merely pissing me off." She looked up at him. "You humiliated me. You took away my dignity. And for what?"

Arnold sat down beside her. "Helga, I had no idea that this would happen. I just couldn't think of anything else and…" he sighed. "This is ridiculous, me making excuses. There's no excuse for what I did to you and what I caused you to go through. Helga, I," he lifted her chin so she would look at him. "I never meant to hurt you. I would never deliberately hurt you. I'm just an idiot sometimes, you know that."

She stared at him. Her eyes were puffy and her face was blotchy, but she was as beautiful as ever. He was getting to see her at her simplest, and he loved her even more for it. "I know you never wanted to hurt me."

"I tell you want, I have pair of sweats and a sweatshirt in my locker, mostly clean…anyways, if you want them, they're yours."

She smiled slightly. "Please." She stopped. "Arnold?"

He leaned towards her a bit, not realizing how close he was to her yet again. "Yeah?"

"Were you telling the truth when you said you would never deliberately hurt me?"

He smiled in spite of everything, and he felt his cheeks turn red. "Of course, Hegla, I'd never purposely hurt someone that I care about."

Helga blinked in surprise and was for a moment speechless. "You care about me?"

"Of course," he said automatically. _More than you know…_ He cleared his throat as she smiled nervously at him. "Of course I care about you, Helga." _Just do it,_ he told himself as he leaned closer to her. He placed his hand on the curve of her jaw, and she started to close her eyes. "Helga, I'm in—"

_Brrring._

Arnold pulled his hand away as he bell rang and ended lunch. He wished that he and Helga had left thirty seconds earlier. Than Helga would know exactly how he felt about her, and he would know how she felt about him. _Damn it!_

"Saved by the bell, uh?" she asked, standing up.

"Yeah." _Saved from myself is more like it._ They walked back to his locker in awkward silence, and he handed her his clothes. "Sorry that they'll be too big for you."

"Arnold, I think you're smaller than I am, so I doubt that will be a problem."

"Thanks, Helga," he said sarcastically.

She shrugged. "I call 'em like I see 'em." She took a stop back. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." She started off towards the girls' bathroom. Helga was halfway there when Arnold raced after her. "Helga!"

She turned. "Arnold, we're going to be really late." She made a face. "What is it?"

He placed his hands on the curve of her jaw and lowered his lips to hers. His heart suddenly seemed like it would explode, but all Arnold could think of was how amazing it was to be kissing Helga G. Pataki. He ran his hands through her hair as he deepened the kiss, and he had to move them to her back when she suddenly weakened. He pulled away reluctantly; if it were up to him the moment would last forever. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was." He stared at her once last time. "See ya."

Helga watched him walk away, hardly aware of what had just happened. "Oh my God," she muttered, her heart still hammering away. "Arnold's falling in love with me."

_I don't think I'm the other girl anymore. I'm the **only **girl._

A/N: Nice stopping point. Later days.


	10. Shatterday

Disclaimer – I don't own _Hey Arnold!_

A Sure Thing

Chapter 10 – Shatterday

* * *

Helga closed her eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still feel Arnold's lips on hers. Her body filled with so much happiness she felt as if she was shaking. She could not remember the last time was so happy. After all, Arnold was falling in love with her; she could feel it.

"Miss Pataki!"

She snapped out of her daydream, only to realize every eye in her Economics class was staring at her. She caught Lila's eye, and Helga got an idea. "Yes, Mr. Caulfield?" she asked in a voice much higher than her own as she twirled her hair and flashed a 1000 watt smile. _My God, how can people smile like this? My face hurts already._

"What is the market clearing price for product B?" he asked, clearly not noticing her act, or realizing that it was an act.

Her guard fell. "We're in that chapter?" she asked, frantically turning the pages in her text book.

"Yes, Miss Pataki. I suggest you pay attention. Now, who knows the answer?" he asked, turning his attention away from Helga.

She glared at the old man as he moved on to torture a boy who was half asleep. She sighed. What did it matter, considering she hated Economics? _Stupid class._She slipped back into her daydream, this time she was dancing with Arnold to a cheesy pop song under cheesy prom decorations. _That would be just like heaven._

"Miss Pataki?"

"Huh?"

"The bell has rung," Mr. Caulfield said dryly.

Helga looked around at the empty classroom. "Right. Have a good day."

"You too, Helga. And don't forget to read chapter fourteen!" he cried as she rushed down the hallway. Helga, however, was long gone, rushing to helpfully run into Arnold. _Move_, she thought as she tried to move past Lila and one of her friends. _Why do I always seem to get caught behind people who can't walk?_

"Yeah, Arnold and I are going out tonight. He's surprising me."

Helga's blood ran cold. She had forgotten Arnold was going on a date with Lila. She suddenly did not want to see him or think about him, although she knew that both were impossible. Tears rushed to her eyes as she ran into the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and pulled out her cell phone.

"Yo, it's Cory, and who ever this is you are lucky the bell just rang."

"Sorry," Helga sniffed.

"Helga? Helga, what's wrong?"

"Everything."

* * *

Nothing could ruin Arnold's mood, not even his upcoming date with Lila. He had gotten an A+ on his Calculus test, practice was cancelled, and he had just hours earlier kissed Helga. That alone made it one of the greatest days. He whistled while he walked, embracing the great feeling he had admitting to himself how much he cared about Helga. And, Lord-almighty, that was the most amazing kiss of his life!

He let himself into the loft above Cory's garage. Cory was sitting in the window, writing on a notepad, and Kyle was yelling at Quincy to stop banging on his drums. Quin stopped banging when he saw Arnold. " 'Bout time." He frowned. "What's up with the get up? You look like you just stepped outta the movie _Wall Street_," he said, snickering.

Arnold looked down at his blue suit and tie. "Oh, I have a date with Lila and she wants me to take her someplace nice."

"Really?" Cory asked with a slight edge in his voice.

"Yeah." Arnold frowned. Cory was usually mellow and cared little about anything but music when he was in the loft.

Kyle shoved Quin off the seat. "Is that why you can't take that stupid grin off your face? You're finally getting some?"

Arnold laughed as he grabbed a guitar. "Ah, no."

"Then what?" Quin asked as he tested a new base line."

"I, uh, kissed Helga today," he said simply.

Kyle dropped his sticks and Quincy stopped playing on a sour note. Corbin, however, did not even look up.

"What? When?" Quin demanded.

"Today at school." Arnold chuckled. "It was amazing."

"I'll say. You sound like a girl," Kyle muttered. "Wait, but you're going with Lila tonight."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, but I'm gonna tell her I'm not interested in her anymore."

"Never thought he'd mutter those words," Quin said under his breath.

"Neither did I. Tell me, Arnold," Corbin finally rose and walked over to Arnold. "When did Johansson's nasty habits rub off on you?" he sneered.

Cory's face was blank as usual, but his eyes were blazing, full of anger. "What are you getting at?" Arnold asked, taking a step back.

"Oh, let's see, Johansson had a perfectly wonderful girl but needed some things on the side, too. So, Arnold, which girl are you planning on screwing and who are you planning on screwing over?"

Arnold's jaw dropped. "I would never do that. I care about her too much."

"And Gerald didn't care about Phoebe? Caring has nothing to do with it."

"I care about Helga!"

Cory took a step forward. "What about Lila? Do you care about her too?"

"Well, yeah, but not like I do about Helga."

Cory scoffed. "Coulda fooled me, especially since you've been chasing after Lila like a chicken with his head cut off for the past eight years."

Arnold felt his blood boil. "This is different!"

"Is it, Arnold?" It was more a challenge than a question.

"Yes!" Arnold cried. Kyle and Quin watched, stunned, from behind him. He was breathing heavy, unable to phantom what brought this on. He know Cory might still have strong feelings for Helga, but if he did he usually wrote a song or two, not explode like this.

Cory leaned in. "Then tell her that." He stepped back and looked at the clock. "You better get going. You don't want to be late for your date." He went back to the window and resumed writing.

Arnold started at Kyle and Quin, who merely looked confused. Arnold suddenly got it. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." He ran out the door to the nearest pay phone and dialed Lila's number.

"Sawyer residence, Ellen speaking," came a very perky voice through the speaker.

"Mrs. Sawyer, it's Arnold."

"Arnold, it's so nice to hear from you, and call me Ellen, dear. I'll get Lila for you."

"No, I don't have time. Just tell her something came up and I had to cancel. I'll make it up to her, I promise, but I have to go."

"Arnold, is it really that bad? She was really—"

"I'm sorry. I have to go." He hung up and hailed a cab, secretly hoping Lila would spend the night talking about him with Ellen, who would convince her to dump someone so rude and poor. _From what Helga tells me about her, that'd be right up her ally._ "Ocean avenue," he told the driver.

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived outside Helga's building. He rushed inside were Marquis and another doorman were stationed. "Where's Helga?" he demanded from Marquis between gasps of breath.

The older man looked at him as if he was something disgusting that needed to be squashed by a tissue and thrown in the toilet. "Miss Pataki is not available."

Arnold slammed his fist on the counter, not caring how irrational he was being. "Where is she? Where can I find her?"

Marquis blinked for a moment, quite startled. "Miss Pataki is –"

"She's out with her friend Mickey," the other doorman said as he glared at Marquis.

"Thank you," Arnold yelled as he rushed outside.

After two hours, he finally arrived at the American Rival, which is where Arnold figured he should have started his search. This, however, led to another twenty minutes of searching through the club for Helga. He found Mickey first.

"Where's Helga?" he cried over the music.

"Why do you want to know?" Mickey yelled back, glaring at him.

Arnold desperately looked around for Helga. He did not necessarily like Mickey that much. She made him nervous, for she was even more unpredictable and volatile than Helga, and she did not seem to like him too much either.

"I need to talk to her. It's important."

"I'm sure it is. Where's your little Lindsay Lohan at?"

"I'm not with her. Please, where's Helga?"

Mickey's eyebrows went up. "Really? That's a surprise. She get bored with you already?"

Helga came up behind her friend and grabbed her, obviously not seeing Arnold. "Hey, Pink Bullet's getting ready to play. Let's go."

"Helga!" Arnold cried, not caring how dorky or desperate he sounded. He was in much too deep to care about that.

She looked at him, stunned, like a deer in headlights before quickly regaining her cool. "What do you want?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

Mickey slipped out of the middle. "I'll be up towards the stage, Helga." Helga did not acknowledge her.

"I came to talk to you," he said as soon as Mickey left. Around him people were bumping into him and Helga as they tried to get closer to the stage.

"Where's Lila?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest.

"I don't know. I cancelled our date."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Why?" She frowned. "You'll never get her now."

"Great."

"What?" she looked genuinely confused. She said something after that, but Arnold could not hear her as the band began to play and the crowd roared. He lightly grabbed her arm. "Can we go outside?"

She nodded and followed him out. "What do you mean? Do you not care about ruining your chances with Lila?"

He smiled at her. "I, uh, I discovered that Lila just wasn't what I thought she was."

Helga snorted. "I could've told you that. In fact, I think I did," she said coldly.

He laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, you know me. I'm a little dense."

"A little?"

"Hey now," he rubbed his neck nervously. "Anyway, I, uh, I–I…"

She tilted her head and stared at him. "Developed a stutter?"

"I like you, Helga. I, uh, really do," he finished lamely. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, which seemed to make sense because he was sure his heart had stopped.

She stopped smiling. "What about Lila?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled to himself. "What about her indeed. I personally don't care anymore."

She frowned. "So I helped you for nothing?"

He smiled. "I somehow doubt you helped for nothing or that reason alone."

Helga stared at him, her face blank. It was too hard to try to find out what she was thinking. "Meaning?"

"I think you like me too."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "That's bold, Hair Boy. A little too bold, actually." She stomped her foot as he gave her no response. "Don't you dare look at me like that, Arnold! I'm not anymore interested in you than I am in plucking my eyelashes out. My intentions were pure, thank you very much."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Helga. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy that kiss today."

Her eyes flared up. "Yes! What the hell was that today, anyways?"

"I wanted to kiss you," he said simply.

"Right. Anyways, I only let you kiss me because I was humiliated, because of _you_, if you can remember. Because I did something _nice_ for you." She turned around. "I'm sick of this conversation. Go find Lila and suck on her face, for all I care."

Arnold spun her back towards him and lowered his lips to hers. She pulled quickly apart. "Are you serious?"

"Helga, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

She stared at him for a moment before melting into his arms. Around them people filed in and out of the club, but all they were aware of was each other.

* * *

Helga leaned against the brick as she slipped her hands into the pocket of Arnold's baseball hoodie. Oasis's _Wonderwall_ played on the stereo that Arnold had brought out, and she faintly hummed while she stared at the stars. She felt both jittery and eerily calm at the same time. It was as if she was meant to be here at this moment and that nothing could stop her from being with Arnold.

"Here," Arnold said as he handed Helga a cup of tea. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, thank you," she said shyly.

Arnold slid down beside her. It was nearly midnight, and the city was still moving down below. He, however, was only aware of the girl beside him. "I didn't know you were an Oasis fan."

She nodded as she swallowed her tea. "Yeah, I love this album." She took another drink. "I'm a sucker for great songs and Noel Gallagher is a fabulous writer."

Arnold raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I love poetry, and really that's what music is: a poem with a melody."

Arnold chewed his bottom lip. "So, why'd never date Corbin? He seems perfect for you."

"I did."

Arnold nearly choked. "What? When?"

Helga stared off into space. "Oh, beginning of sophomore year." She caught his anxious look. "But I decided I only was interested in being friends. Just because something seems perfect for you, it doesn't necessarily mean it is." She put her tea down and hugged her knees. "Cory's a great friend. A really great friend, actually." She paused. "But that's all."

He nodded.

"Phoebe called yesterday," she said after a silence, dramatically changing the conversation.

Arnold turned to her. "Really? How's she?" Arnold had not spoken to the girl since she moved during sophomore year.

"Good." Helga smiled. "She asked about you."

"And?"

"And I told her about how well you're doing in baseball and about our little wager."

Arnold laughed. "What's she say about that?"

Helga played with the strings of the sweatshirt. "That we are both crazy."

He chuckled a little. "Why's that?"

"Well," Helga struggled to find words. "She thinks you need to get over Lila and that I need to stop with all my ulterior motives."

Arnold's eyes sparkled. "So there was an ulterior motive?" he teased.

"Mm-hmmm," she smiled. "But I can't tell you all of them, or else I'd have to kill you."

"Right." He pulled one of the strings out of Helga's mouth. "What else did she have to say?"

Helga turned so she faced his profile. "She asked about Gerald."

Arnold stiffened slightly. "What'd you say?"

She shrugged. "That he hasn't changed."

Arnold sighed. He could not even defend Gerald, because it was true. "How's she holding up with that?"

"Okay, I guess. I mean, it's been almost two years, but I think she's still in a lot more pain than she'll admit." She picked at her nails. "It kills me how long heartache can last."

Arnold said nothing. He had a feeling Helga was speaking from experience, but he did not want to pry. He frowned. She spoke as if she broke up with Cory, so if it was not him, who was it?

She clapped her hands together, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I'm totally bringing the conversation down. What were we talking about? Oasis. And poetry." She smiled. "Did I ever tell you who my favorite poet is?"

He snorted. "You have favorite poet?"

"Yeah. Don't you?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"Well, whatever." She frowned. "Anyways, it's Pablo Neruda."

"Who? I've never even heard of him."

"Pablo Neruda. A Chilean romantic poet. He won the Nobel Prize," she said matter-of-factly. "You should borrow some of his books sometime. You'd like him, I think, seeing how as you are a hopeless romantic." She nudged him playfully with her leg.

"Well, I may not be so hopeless anymore," he said coyly.

Helga blushed. "So you're serious about you and me?" she asked, avoided his eyes.

"Helga, can you not tell I am?" he asked as he pulled her chin toward his. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I may need a lot of convincing," she whispered, the butterflies returning to her stomach. She could not believe this was happening. Arnold wanted to date her, Helga G. Pataki. It was a dream come true.

He smiled. "Now that I can do."

Helga again felt Arnold's lips on her own, and as Arnold pulled her closer to him, she decided that all the pain she had ever felt was worth the bliss she was feeling at the moment.

* * *

Saturday, April 25

"I'm home!" Arnold cried as he entered the living room after practice.

"Take your shoes off, I just vacuumed!" Stella yelled from the kitchen.

Arnold sat down in the living room beside his father, shoes still on. "Hey."

"Hey, Arnold. How was practice?" Miles asked without looking up from his crossword.

"Good. Tiring, but good." He blinked several times. "I think I might take a nap. Coach was killer on us today to make up for yesterday." He closed his eyes and rested his head on the side of the couch. "I never want to miss another practice again."

"I'd be tired too if I was you."

Arnold opened his eyes and eyed his father. Somehow he doubted Miles was simply talking about his baseball practice. He flicked a piece of mud off the bottom of his cleat. "What's that?"

"Well, you got home well after one, which is well after curfew."

Arnold froze. He thought he had been in the clear yesterday when he used the fire escape to take Helga home and get back to his room. "I, uh, had to take Helga home," he said lamely.

"Mm-hmm," Miles muttered, still not looking up. "Who sang _I wear my Sunglasses at Night?_"

"Cory Hart."

Miles nodded. "Right." He chewed his pen as he read the next clue. "So what time did you leave to take her home?"

"Uh, one—ish."

"Mm-hmm. And how long were you at her house?"

Arnold wished his father would just get to his punishment. It would not be that bad. Stella was the discipliner. His father was somewhat of an aloof pushover. "Uh—" He stopped when he saw the twinkle in his father's eye. "Dad!"

Miles laughed. "Just don't break curfew." He ruffled his son's sandy hair. "Ah-ha, Trojans." He filled in the crossword. "Oh, and use protection if you, well, ya know."

Arnold shook his head. At least he knew his father would be cool with it if he and Helga ever had sex. Arnold's mind floated away, and he smiled in spite of himself. _Now** that's** a nice thought._

"Arnold! I told you to take those off! Look at all the mud!"

"Sorry, Mom." He kicked his shoes off.

"Oh! You're making a bigger mess!" Stella was red in the face and had murder in her eyes. "Miles! Do something!"

"What, oh, Arnold, uh, go to your room."

"Miles!"

Miles remained concentrating on the crossword, only vaguely acknowledging the certain volcano that was sure to erupt around him. "What? Oh, go empty the dishwasher."

"MILES!"

He finally looked up and said as calmly as if he asked for the butter, "What, dear?"

"IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A PUNISHMENT?" Stella put her hands on her hips to stop them from shaking. "Did you even_ ground_ him for breaking curfew?"

Miles looked confused. "You said to talk to him. You didn't say anything about a punishment."

"IT WAS IMPLIED!" She sighed and turned to her son. "Arnold, I don't care if you bring Lila here, but you need to be _here_ and she needs to be at _her_ house by one."

"Yes ma'am," Arnold said quickly, catching her mistake. _If I get out of here quick, I won't have to hear it._ "I understand. It won't happen again. I promise. I'll go clean my shoes outside now." He rose.

Miles looked at his wife and than at his son. "Lila? I thought Helga was here last night."

_Damn._ Arnold sat back down and groaned. He knew exactly what was coming.

Stella glared at him. "Helga?" she asked slowly. "I thought you were seeing Lila."

"I, uh, am, sorta," Arnold replied before realizing he had just made things worse.

"And Helga?"

"I'm dating Helga." It was like music to his ears.

Stella stomped her foot. "So you're dating two girls?" she demanded.

"Alright!" Miles cried.

"Miles!" She slapped him upside the head. "This is your encouragement? This was supposed to be your job, yours and Phil's! But no, no, you two are too busy fishing or doing crosswords or whatever else and now my son is a creep!"

Miles pointed to the crossword. "No, I meant I got it all right. The crossword. I haven't finished one all on my own in a long time," he finished softly.

Stella put a hand to her forehead. "Where are your parents anyways?"

"Tango lessons. Uh, Mom wants to be in shape for Cinco de Mayo."

She buried her head in her hands. "The man nearly dies of a stroke and can barely walk and she as a bad hip, but they must tango for a holiday they don't even celebrate," she muttered under her breath. She pulled her hands back to glare at the half-finished crossword before turning her attention back to Arnold.

"I'm planning on breaking up with Lila. I really want to be with Helga," he said quickly as the blood ran to his cheeks. "I care about her. A lot."

Stella's expression softened slightly. "Does Lila have any idea about Helga?"

"No," Arnold answered, his voice heavy with guilt.

"Well, do it soon, before it gets messier and you cause even more pain." She sighed, obviously torn from being happy for and disappointed in her only child.

"Yes ma'am."

"In fact, I'll cut you a deal. If you work in the backyard this afternoon, I'll let you to talk to Lila this evening."

"That's double punishment!"

She smiled. "I thought you'd like that." She grabbed the newspaper out of Miles's hands and hit him with it. "That is how you discipline a child." She pointed the rolled up paper at Arnold. "Now get to work." She threw the paper on Miles's lap.

"Oh man," Arnold whined after his mother was well out of earshot.

"You should be happy. She went relatively easy on you." Miles paused. "What movie starred real-life couple Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe?"

Arnold frowned. "_Cruel Intentions._"

* * *

_All done._ Arnold thought hours later. His back was aching, and he could feel a sunburn developing on his bare shoulders. He grabbed the rest of his water and poured it on his head.

"Now _that's _a sight I could get used to," a voice said from behind him. Helga was walking towards him, wearing a pair of short, white shorts and a pink halter. She looked very polished, and yet she seemed like her normal self.

Arnold blushed and quickly grabbed his t-shirt, which then stuck to his wet chest and back. "Hey, what are you doing here?" A smile appeared on his lips.

"Looking for you." She frowned. "Were you in trouble for getting back late?"

He nodded. "Yeah, and leave it to me to break curfew the night before the hottest day since 1932."

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely, although she could not help but smile a bit.

He shrugged. "Naw, it's alright. I woulda wound up here no matter what." He wiped his forehead. "What brings you over here?"

She pulled two tickets out of her pockets. "Ball game. Starts in thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes? Helga, even if my mom—"

"Isn't here," she said, her smile growing wider.

Arnold frowned. "What?"

"She took your father grocery shopping. Your grandfather said you'd worked hard enough for the day, and your grandma said to say hello to Mr. Churchill, and to tell my husband to hurry up and bring the troops home."

"What?"

"Oh, never mind." She crossed her arms and tapped her left foot impatiently. "Are you coming or what?"

"Well, yea, but I have to go change and—"

She looked him up and down. "What for?"

"Uh, Helga, I'm drenched in sweat and I haven't taken a shower since last night."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I care?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him across the yard. Arnold decided he had found the perfect girl. _Damn, I was supposed to call Lila,_ he thought as he walked hand-in-hand with Helga.

_What could another day hurt?

* * *

_

Monday, April 27

Arnold could not be in a better mood. He had spent a majority of the weekend with Helga, and it was by far the best weekend ever. They spent Sunday playing softball (he was sure Helga would be starting by the end of the week) and playing Parcheesi with his grandparents. Now all he had to do was officially ask her to date him and go to prom with him. That and tell Lila he was no longer interested in her. He finally called her Sunday night after Helga left and told her he had something important to tell her today. _I might as well do it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid._

Gerald clapped him on the shoulder. "What's up with you? You acted like you were on E at practice, and you look the same now."

Arnold ignored the urge to say Helga recently talked to Phoebe. "Not E, H."

"Huh?"

Arnold shut his locker. "I spent the weekend with Helga."

Gerald paused to think. "On her literally?"

Arnold rolled his eyes. "No," he said bluntly.

"Oh." Gerald groaned. "Why'd you spend the weekend with Helga? Arnold, I know you said you were falling for her or something, but I figured that was just built up sexual tension from working with her so much. What about Lila?"

Arnold gave a small smile. "I—uh, am going to ask her to be my prom date."

Gerald clapped his hands. "About damn time. I was wondering when you'd get the balls to do it." He laughed. "Welcome back, man. I figured you'd just gone a little insane there for a few days. Now, this I have to see. You finally are asking Lila Sawyer." He hugged Arnold. "My little boy is growing up."

"Get off!" Arnold pushed a laughing Gerald away. "I meant Helga."

Gerald nearly choked on his gum. "What? Why? How? Ew!"

"I don't know. I just can't explain it. There's something about her that makes me feel, I dunno, whole."

"Well, you are going to haveta because I don't see how you could have come to this point." He gasped. "She brainwashed you!"

Arnold rolled his eyes again. "She did not, you idiot. I like Helga, and she likes me."

Gerald raised an eyebrow. "Kinda like how you liked Lila?"

Arnold frowned. "That was different. Trust me."

Gerald stared at him. "Fine. But what about Lila?"

Arnold shrugged. "I'm going to tell her the truth. I owe her that."

"The whole truth?" Gerald asked, looking at Arnold as if his best friend had lost all sense.

"Okay, the _selected_ truth. She doesn't need to know _everything_ that I feel about her."

"Uh, Arnold?" Gerald interrupted.

"I mean, that will just complicate things more. Neither of us need that, especially now."

"Uh, Arnold—" Gerald said louder.

"Gerald! Stop, please! I'm going to ask her to prom and to be my girlfriend and that's that! I'm—I'm falling for her, okay?"

He barely got the words out when he was nearly tackled from behind. "Oh, Arnold! I never thought you'd ask! Oh, I'm ever so happy!"

Arnold's heart stopped. He did not have to turn around to know who the girl was holding him was not the girl he was talking about. Especially since Helga was staring at him from across the hallway, her pain written all over her face.

_What have I done?_


	11. The Trouble with Love

Disclaimer – same as always.

A Sure Thing

Chapter 11 – The Trouble with Love

* * *

Arnold could not move. 

Time had stopped. The world stopped moving, or, moreover, _his_ world stopped moving. All he could see was the pain-filled eyes of the girl he cared about, possibly loved, probably loved. She, usually so guarded that it was difficult for him to determine her thoughts, had her heartbreak uncharacteristically on her sleeve. Her eyes locked with his for one second, then two. All he could see was her. All he could think of was her. Lila's words echoed through the air, and it seemed as if they were crushing his very body (or perhaps that was _her_). _What does it matter?_ he thought desperately. _It's over. I can't explain this. _Even from across the hallway, he could see the tears sparkling in her dark eyes like diamonds among coal, which was what she was. A lump of coal that he could now see was a diamond.

The spell broke. The world moved again, and she was gone. "Oh, I'm just ever so happy!" Lila cried. He turned in her arms to find the blond. He searched the sea of students, but to no avail. Helga was long gone, in more than one way, he feared. He looked down into the sea blue eyes of Lila. She looked so happy; and yet, as he stared at her, her eyes still seemed empty. They were not sparkling, like Helga's did when he kissed her. They were not open like hers when he spoke to her, and they did not try to hide themselves like hers did when she was overcome with shyness. Arnold was disgusted with the girl in front of him, disgusted at the situation, and disgusted with himself. Fate seemed to have intervened, for if Lila had arrived just five seconds later he would be breaking her heart. That he could bear, for he still felt nothing for her.

Yet his feet did not move. He could not push Lila away, for, stupid and silly as she was, he was far to kind to simply ignore her feelings altogether. _His_ nature would not let him leave, just has _her_ nature would not let her stay. Helga was not one to face her problems head on, and he had thrown this one straight into her face. He loved her, he _needed_ her, and he understood her reasoning. He was not mad at her for leaving; it was much too much for her to handle. It was too much for anyone.

And yet he did not move.

* * *

_He didn't come after me._

Helga sat in her room, her head resting just beneath the window. Moonlight filtered through the large panes, making patterns on the walls and floor, stopping just before her bed. The penthouse was silent; everyone was gone. Where, she did not know, or care, for that matter. _That_ pain, _that_ feeling of being alone she could handle. She was far used to it. This, however, had turned her into a zombie.

_The bastard,_ she thought. He had stared at her. He had _stared_ at her, straight in the eye, just as she heard Arnold's words and Lila's reply. She had been a fool, too shocked to cover the heartache, which she knew he could plainly see. _Oh, God, have I been a fool!_ He, on the other hand, stared coldly at her, as if he had never seen her before. He kept Lila's arms around him, as she _breathed_on his neck. She seemed to practically faint from happiness, only able to stand with his strength. _And she! Oh, she wouldn't even be there if it wasn't for me! I did this—I…_

Helga stopped the ranting in her head. "I did this," she said aloud. Fresh tears spilled down her face. She had, really, held the blade that Arnold used to stab her in the heart. At any rate, she had given it to him. _Didn't I let him kiss me? Didn't I tell him how much I cared about him? Didn't I let him see how vulnerable I can be? I let those walls down. I let him in!_ The thought made her sick. After so long, she was finally able to express her feelings for him, although in moderation. And she was humiliated for her actions. _He played me. HE PLAYED ME! That bastard! That mother-fucking bastard!_

_And still, I love him just the same. My pride gone, everything broken around me, and I still **love** him._ She pulled her legs to her chest and hugged her knees. The room seemed to have gotten colder, and the clock on the wall lit up as it turned two in the morning. She had been sitting, staring into space for hours. _Maybe they are home…what does it matter? What does anything matter? _Her tears were gone, and she sat immobile, no longer able to cry. As she closed her eyes, she felt something inside her fade. She drifted into sleep and she could slowly feel herself hardening.

At that moment, she no longer loved Arnold.

* * *

"You fuckin' idiot. Do you have any idea what you just did?"

White-hot fury filled Arnold's veins. Never mind the fact he had been beating himself up the entire day about his own stupidity. He had to hear it from everyone else as well. "Yes!" he yelled into the phone at Quincy. "God, you should've _seen_ her face. I've never seen her like that. Ever. And I've seen Helga hurt before about one thing or another. It was…" he failed to find the words to describe her anguish.

"That wasn't what I was talking about, and don't _even_ pretend that you know everything about Helga, okay?" He scoffed. "You've spent the last how many years talking about how much you hated her, or how horrible she was, and now you act like you two have had this grand connection for your entire lives. You haven't, Arnold. Remember that."

Arnold paused, both upset and confused. "Okay…then what were you talking about?"

"_I_ was referring to our chances at Battle of the Bands. Because of your little fuck-up, Cory's gonna kill you, and if he doesn't, there's an ice cube's chance in hell he'll practice with you. Hell, he probably won't last two seconds in the same room as you without punching you in the face."

Arnold groaned and leaned back on his bed, staring at the moon through his skylight. In the moonlight he could see the note on his computer reminding him that he was supposed to have had a practice with Helga that night. He walked over and ripped it off, crumbling it before throwing it at the trashcan. The wad hit the rim and bounced into the darkness. He cursed silently, thinking about what Cory would do once Helga told him. The boy had shown how protective he was of Helga, and Arnold knew that deep down _he_ wished he was in Arnold's shoes. _Well, in my shoes before I screwed this all up._

"Arnold? Are you still there?"

Arnold shook his head. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Seriously, do you know what you just did? Oh, man, we are fucked! Shit, _I_ might kill you."

"Then you're out a guitarist and back up singer," Arnold said absentmindedly.

"It's not funny, Arnold!" Quin shouted.

"No shit!" Arnold cried, losing his temper. "Do you think I think this is funny? The girl I'm crazy about hates me, I'm stuck going to prom with a girl I can't stand, and now all my friends hate me. God, Helga _hates_ me."

"What the hell do you mean you're stuck? You ain't stuck to shit, Arnold. God, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about now?"

"You! Why can't you just tell Lila you don't want to go with her? If you'd done that in the first place instead of pussyfooting around, you wouldn't be in this situation. So stop the 'woe is me' shit, because I'm not buying it."

"It's more complicated than that."

"No, it's not. Arnold, I know you're a nice guy, but that's your problem. You were too afraid to hurt _Lila_, whom now you claim to not give a shit about, which caused you to hurt _Helga_, whom you are in love with."

Arnold paused. "I never said that."

"Well, ya are, you and Cory both." Quin said. "There, I said it. Arnold, all you have to do is break it off with Lila and tell Helga the truth, that you were meaning to ask her but Lila thought you were talking about her and that you're in love with her. I think that should fix things quite a bit." Quin laughed dryly. "Hell, if you're lucky, Cory will never find out."

Arnold frowned. He somehow did not think Helga was going to forgive him that easily. That girl was known to hold a grudge, certainly when he was the one to piss her off. _Maybe it would change things if I told her that …that I love her _(it was getting easier to say). "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"Well, just hurry about it. Call me tomorrow."

"Right." Arnold hung up and thought about Helga. _She just has to forgive me. **I'd** forgive her. _

_At least I think I would…

* * *

_

-Tuesday, April 28-

Helga looked around, hiding behind a bookcase in the back corner of the library, which was usually occupied by a couple who was looking for a different way to pass the time at school. Satisfied no one was around, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Cory's number.

After three rings, she hung up and waited. About three minutes later, her own phone vibrated. "Hello?"

"Helga, I was in Goddamn calculus taking a test. Couldn't you think of a better time to call me?" Cory asked, clearly irritated.

"Nope. And besides, you're the one who called me earlier." _You and about fifteen million text messages from __Arnold_ She pushed that last thought from her head.

"I just wanted to tell you that my game's at 4:30."

"Can't make it. My game's the same time. If yours was later, I could come." He groaned. "I should just go to your game. My team sucks. It's horrible."

She laughed, unaware she was currently being watched.

"Anyways, how's the happy couple?"

_Damnit. _"What happy couple?" she asked, trying her hardest to keep her voice even.

"Uh, you and Arnold. That's all you talked about Saturday. And Sunday. Lord, you actually sounded like a _girl_."

"You're mistaken. There is no 'me and Arnold,'" she said calmly.

"Why not?" Cory asked.

"Because he's going to prom with Lila."

"What?" Cory cried. Helga pulled her phone from her ear. "Cory, shut up. I'm in a _library._"

"So? I'm in a Goddamn toilet stall. What the hell do you mean he's back with Lila?"

"He asked her yesterday. Anyways, before you go and start asking, I'm okay."

"You are?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah. Anyways, I am out a potential prom date, so what the hell? Cory, would you like to come to prom with me and make fun of ridiculously dressed people who can't dance to crappy music?"

"No," he replied flatly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm not going to be your God damn Arnold because he decided to totally fuck up. What the hell's wrong with him?"

Helga sighed. "I don't know, and I'm tired of trying to find out. And I'm not replacing you because of him. I'd rather go with my best friend anyways then go with that Football-headed freak."

There was a long pause. "Fine, Helga. But I have to go finish my test. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright."

"And Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"Think it over first."

Helga frowned. "Think what over first?"

"You know what I mean. I'll call you."

He hung up before she could respond. She closed her phone and turned around, only to find Arnold staring at her. "Shit," she said as she was scared half-to-death. "God damn it, Football Head." She eyed him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he said.

Helga looked him over. He looked terrible. He was pale and looked like he was sweating. Slight circles surrounded his green eyes and his hands were shaking. She smirked. _This doesn't look like a happy boy. Good, he should be miserable._ "I don't want to talk to you," she said as she slid past him.

"Helga, please. I have to explain something to you."

She turned and smiled at him. "Arnold, you don't have to explain a thing, because I don't want to hear any of your excuses."

"Helga, it was all—"

"I don't give a damn what it was, Arnold! It could have been momentary insanity. I don't care!"

"I do!" he cried.

Helga paused. She stared at him. His eyes were so honest, so open. She could see nothing that would make her question his motives, or question how much he seem to care about her at the moment, and how determined he was to talk to her. _He'll just hurt you again,_ a voice inside her head said. _It's just how it always was. Don't let yourself get hurt again._ She narrowed her eyes. "Then that's your problem," she said coldly. She walked away, leaving him in awe.

She wondered around the library for the rest of the period, deep in thought. He seemed to have felt truly sorry, but what did that mean? Arnold was too hard to understand, and, knowing him, he still could not tell Lila that he did not want to go to prom with her. And as far as Helga was concerned, that was reason enough to not trust him.

The bell rang, and she returned to the tables to get her stuff. On top of her notebook was a note for her, written in Arnold's handwriting. She thought of simply pitching it, but part of her could not do that without first reading what he had to say to her.

_Helga, if you won't talk to me, than I guess I'll have to do something that will really irritate you. I'll write you a love note._

"Love note?" she shrieked out loud. Nearby a few students watched her talk to herself with mild interest before moving on to their own lives. _Lo-lo-love?_ She sat down and continued reading in complete shock.

_Yes, love. I'd much rather tell you in person, but you seem to currently despise the sight of me. Not that I blame you at all. I'd probably do the same thing. Anyways, I love you, Helga. And, like every clichéd movie has ever taught you, love means doing stupid things (though it does not mean never having to say you're sorry. Whoever wrote those words should be shot. Seriously). I never meant to ask Lila to prom. I was going to tell her that I wasn't interested in her anymore, when she overheard the wrong part of a conversation between Gerald and me and just assumed that I was talking about her. Being the chicken that I am, and genuinely nice guy (I knew this would come back to haunt me), I couldn't immediately tell her the truth, because for some reason I was afraid to hurt her, which, I quickly realized too late, caused me to hurt you, which I promise I would never do intentionally. This, of course, does not make what I did any less hurtful or horrible. I promise though, that you are the only girl that I want to love, whether I will do that with you by my side or if I have to watch you be happy with someone else. I know this is kinda heavy, but I promise you every word is true, and I am sorrier than you know._

_With love from your little fuck-up, _

_Arnold_

_Love? He loves me?_ Helga quickly read through the letter again. He was being completely honest and was laying himself at her mercy. _I know he's telling the truth. I can feel it! _If that was not enough of an act to get her to talk to him, she did not know what was. _Arnold, oh Arnold, can this be true? Can you really be in love with me? _The room seemed brighter, and Helga felt her head becoming slightly dizzy. She slowly stood up and went to go find him.

Just feet away from Helga, Arnold went to go face his own problems. "Lila? Can I talk to you?" he asked coldly as he stood behind the group of girls who surrounded Lila. The circle giggled as he stared at her. _Idiots._

"Of course," Lila replied, giving him a toothy smile. "I'll see y'all later, okay?"

"Call us, Lila," the girls murmured, each giving Arnold and Lila suggestive smiles as they left. Arnold rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Lila. "Look, uh, Lila," he rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I need to talk to you about prom…"

She giggled slightly and sighed, tossing her long auburn hair over her slim shoulders. "Oh, Arnold, I'm ever so excited. Ellen and I are planning on looking for a dress this weekend in LA. Daddy has to be down there for a conference, so we are all making a weekend of it." She slipped her tiny hands into his, forcing his fists open.

He quickly tried to pull back, but she held on too tightly. "Look, Lila…"

"What colors were you thinking about?" she mused, completely ignoring him. "I was thinking of a sapphire dress, you know, to bring out the color of my eyes. Do you have a tux yet?"

Blood rushed to his head as he became more frustrated. He grabbed her shoulders lightly. "Lila, will you listen to me for a minute?"

She frowned. "Arnold, what's ever so wrong? Why are you so tense?" She slid her hands up his arms and rested them on his neck. "Relax, Arnold," she whispered.

Arnold realized what she was planning to do before she did it, but he could not pull away before Lila's lips found their way to his.

"IS THIS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE?" Helga thundered.

Arnold pulled away from Lila only to see pure hatred on Helga's face and the note he wrote her in her hand. He stared at her, wide-eyed, unable to move or speak. _Oh, shit…_It was the same disaster all over again, though this time he knew there was no turning back.

"Helga, what are you doing?" Lila cried, clearly loving all the attention the three were getting.

"Move it, twiggy," Helga snapped, pushing her out of the way and staring Arnold down. "Answer me, asshole!" she cried.

"Helga, it's not what you think—"

THUD. She slammed him into the lockers and pinned him up against them. "YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST FUCKING THING ABOUT WHAT I AM THINKING!" She released him and buried her head in her hands. "Shit, do you realize I actually _believed_ you?" she cried.

Arnold could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway staring at them. His chest ached as he stared at Helga, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders as she hid her face from him. He reached out to pull her hair back. "Helga, I—"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she bellowed, raising her head. To his surprise, she was not crying. She stared at him for a moment before banging a fist near his head. "I think this belongs to you," she whispered, holding the note between two fingers in front of his face. "I don't want anymore of your bullshit, okay? This is it. Don't talk to me, don't even look at me. You are the most disgusting, foul, lowlife I have ever met, and that includes your little cheating ass friend Gerald." She laughed coldly. "And to think it would end like this…" she whispered, more to herself than to him. She kissed him on the cheek before leaving.

The crowd parted as Helga walked down the hallway. They waited until she was gone to start whispering and staring at Arnold and Lila. Their words buzzed in his ears as the scene was replayed over and over in his head. Lila was staring at him, this time with genuine terror in her eyes. "Arnold, what was that? Why was Helga ever so mad?"

Anger boiled over, and Arnold could hear the blood pumping in his ears. "That, my dear, was the girl of my dreams. That was the girl I wanted to go to prom with, that was the girl that I love. That's what I fucked up. Strike that, that's what you and I fucked up, because you played a big part in this honey." He watched her eyes fill with tears. "Don't do that, okay? I just crushed her _twice_. Do you honestly think that a couple of tears will make everything better?"

"Arnold, why are you doing this?" Lila cried.

He glared at her, his eyes full of anger. "Why are you doing this, Lila? What feelings do you have for me, honestly? Cause I can promise you if any of them are real, they are ideas that Helga put in your head."

"What do you mean by that?" Lila asked slowly. By now, most of the hall had filled out, spreading the details of the passing events. Lila was facing him, and Arnold was still resting against the locker, immobile from where Helga's hands had placed him.

"Do you want to know the truth?" He laughed. "You know what, who cares? Like they say, the truth will set you free, and I suppose even you deserve to hear what happened."

"What are you talking about? The truth about what?"

Arnold smiled at her, leaning in close to her face. "The truth about us. See, I wanted to date you, because for some crazy reason I thought you were this amazingly complex, beautiful spirit. And trust me, I was wild about you. So desperate to be with you, in fact, that I agreed to have Helga help me to get you, in exchange for helping her to improve in softball, since supposedly I'm some baseball god, which is probably why you agreed to go out with me in the first place, because we both know that in the beginning of this whole mess you couldn't give a shit about me."

Lila grimaced, knowing full well that his words were true. "Stop talking like that. Stop saying such horrible things."

He laughed. "I would, except they're true! Every single word is true. I liked you, so Helga planted things in your head so that you would like me more. She spun you like a top, making you believe that you and I would me perfect together. Which is brilliant, really, except for the fact that I am so Goddamn fickle that I decided that you were a pompous, spoiled, idiotic bitch that I could barely stand to be around and that I was in love with Helga. She, in all that is her, is completely perfect. Not perfect like you, because to the naked eye you are perfect, but perfect _for me_. But I messed that up, now didn't I?" He swallowed hard and watched her. "So, now what do you think of me?" he asked, his voice much deeper and calmer.

Tears were creeping down her face. Real tears. "You used her to try to trick me into liking you?" she asked slowly, not able to look him in the eye

He nodded. "That's the lot of it."

"But…"

He frowned. "But what?"

"Helga tried to tell me that you and I weren't a good idea. I thought there was someone else, which obviously there was, and she said…"

"What did she say?"

"She said that I should give up and move on," she said, staring Arnold straight in the eye.

Arnold was beyond late for practice, but he could care less. "She said that?"

"Yeah. So if she was the other girl—"

"Then she planned this all along," Arnold finished. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I need to go think, Arnold, and you need to get to practice." She picked up her things and left without saying another word.

Arnold slowly walked in the other direction. He knew she should be furious with Helga, for she had been trying to do to him what he did to Lila the entire time. However, this news only gave him hope that she could not give up on her feelings and on him. _Maybe there's hope after all._

* * *

"Pataki! Are you listening?"

"Huh?" Helga looked up at her coach, who reminded her of the old East German shot-put throwers, complete with a mini-mustache. She had been thinking of the day's events as she warmed up for her game with one of her teammates. Apparently her coach had been trying to get her attention for a good minute. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just concentrating—"

"Right." She watched Helga with a sharp eye. She grabbed Helga's arm and pulled her aside. "Look, Pataki, I've been impressed with your improvement over the past few weeks, not to mention your attitude improvement."

Helga nodded. _I've been too worried about other things to concentrate on being a smartass. Maybe I should have a terrible love life more often,_ she thought grimly.

"So that's why you're starting tonight behind the plate, so you need to go help Perkins warm-up."

Helga's face lit up. "Are you serious?"

Coach frowned. "Only if you are, Pataki! Do you want to start or not?" she snapped.

Helga nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'll start warming her up right away."

She could not believe it. Finally, she was getting the recognition and reward for all her hard work. She started warming up with her teammate, barely able to contain her excitement. As her team lined up for the national anthem underneath the clouds that threatened rain, she caught sight of the baseball players coming over from practice to watch the game. Helga closed her eyes as she realized everything she had lost for this, and she began to wonder if the whole experience was worth it. _I've gained a starting spot on a high school team that is still horrible, and for it I lost the love and respect for the boy I've been obsessing over for fifteen years. _She choked back her tears. _Yeah, that's all worth it._

* * *

Arnold watched as the girls slowly piled off the diamond. They had been beaten pretty badly, although Helga had played amazingly during her first start. He could not believe how well she was able to push her personal problems out of her mind to concentrate on the game. _Then again, maybe she doesn't care enough to think about it._ He shook his head. _No! No, she still has to have feelings for me. She has to! _He spotted her starting towards her car, only feet in front of him. There was no way she could avoid him. "Helga! Please, wait!"

She turned, hatred flashing in her eyes before they went blank, matching her face. "I don't want to talk to you, Arnold." She moved again in the direction of the parking lot.

He ran to catch her. Even her ponytail was bouncing angrily. Everything about her said "Leave me alone." Of course, in his lifetime, he had never been afraid of Helga. Even now, that held true. He grabbed her arm and spun her towards him.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" she cried. Several people turned, but decided that it was none of their business to intervene. They did, however, watch with interest.

"Helga, please, talk to me." His hand was still grasped around her forearm. He felt a thrill go through his body, and, as she paused, he imagined through Helga as well.

It passed, and she wrenched her arm free. "I told you, I don't want to talk to you!"

"Helga—"

"What is there to say, Football Head?" Her voice cracked as she cried.

She caught him off guard. He expected her to hide her emotions. Her openness threw him. He swallowed hard, and prepared himself for whatever was to come. "Plenty, Helga. Would you just please let me talk?"

Her eyes flashed. "No! As far as I'm concerned, I never want to hear you speak again!"

Arnold moved without thinking. He placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips forcefully on hers. For a moment she relaxed, but just as quickly she pushed away and slapped him across the face. "You asshole! Who the hell do you think you _are_?"

"Helga—"

"What else do you want from me?" she cried desperately.

"The truth!" he cried. His entire demeanor changed.

Helga watched him with interest. Suddenly he looked furious instead of desperate. His eyes became cold and very un-Arnold like, and his face was full of repressed rage. "What are you talking about?" she asked slowly. "You know the truth; you were there living it! You know exactly what you did!"

"Don't you dare try to pin this all on me!" he thundered. "You messed this up just as much as I did."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, though she had a sinking feeling she already knew what he was going to say.

He looked directly into her eyes. "Why did you really agree to do this? Besides getting help with your game, though that was just an attitude thing. Your coach said so herself. Tell me, Helga, what were your ulterior motives?"

Helga was taken aback. Arnold was generally not so aggressive and upfront. He was going after her full force. "You know exactly why I did this, Arnold," she retorted, hoping to God that he did not hear the nervousness in her voice.

"Really? Then why did you try to tell Lila that she and I shouldn't be together?"

"I never told her—"

"Don't try to lie, Helga. I heard it straight from the source. Why'd you do that?"

She said nothing and stared at the ground.

"You wanted you and me to get together all along, didn't you?" He laughed hollowly. "Tell me, Helga, what else was manipulated by you? Your ankle injury?"

"Shut up! You know I wouldn't do that!"

"What, fake an injury or twist this so you got what you wanted?"

Helga stood in silence, unable to respond to him.

Arnold stared at her. "It's true. You manipulated me!"

"I did nothing like that! I would never do that to you! I just let you get to know the real me and realize how fake Lila was! Tell me, if I wouldn't have done this, would you be in love with me like you claim to be right now?"

He looked away.

She threw her arms in the air. "See? You are just as shallow as she is."

"Like you ever gave me a chance to think otherwise!" he retorted. He laughed. "You know, you are just as much in the wrong as I am."

She snorted. "So we're supposed to start a relationship out of this? Are you kidding me? Arnold, as far as I am concerned, I don't need to ever see you again. My part in this is over, got it? You got want you wanted, remember?" she finished, her voice full of ice and desperation. It was only to be pulled off by her.

He stared at her. Amazingly, he had never found her more beautiful than she was at this moment, her eyes full of loathing and her body shaking with passion. The woman he loved was standing less than a foot in front of him, but in his mind she was a half a world away and moving farther with every moment. Her words floated in the air, and he realized it was over. His chest caving in, he managed to speak. "And you did as well," he said just as coldly.

She was taken aback. "I suppose I did," she said after a moment. After another long pause, she quietly said, "Good-bye, Arnold."

He watched her leave, and, for the second time in as many days, he felt his heart break as she did so. She wanted nothing to do with him, and thought of him as slime, probably even lower than Gerald. She had every reason to. _I am that asshole,_ he thought. He had explained the situation to Lila, but that had only caused more problems. Now he knew that Helga had been pulling as many strings as he had, but that did not matter. He still loved her, and he could forgive her for everything. She, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with him, and for that he had no one to blame but himself. His mother had told him what to do; Cory had told him what to do; hell, even _Gerald_ told him what needed to be done. And he was too afraid to hurt her, so he hurt the girl he loved.

Arnold looked up at the sky. It was raining heavily now; he had not even noticed it had started. He started walking home, which was quite a ways, but he cared little about what happened to him. What did it matter? The more he thought, the more he decided that his outside should match his insides.

_Oh, Helga, what do I do now?_

* * *

Author's Note: Later days. 


	12. Reality Bites

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold!

A Sure Thing

Chapter 12 - Reality Bites

Thursday, April 30

Stella continued humming to herself as she continued her cleaning into the leaving room. "You can try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need," she murmured off-key as she threw a pile of magazines onto the couch so she could dust the table behind it. A slight grunt was heard from behind a pile of pillows. Stella leaned forward and pulled the middle pillow away, revealing a very pale and tired looking Arnold. "Honey, what are you doing?"

Arnold blinked and said nothing. He continued to look straight up at the ceiling with a blank stare.

"Arnold? Arnold? Ugh, don't tell me you've decided to become catatonic." She sighed and pulled the flowers out of the vase that had been sitting beside the magazines. In a swift motion, she removed the rest of the pillows from her son's face, poured the water onto his face, and resumed dusting.

"Mom! What are you doing?" he shrieked, sitting up to glare at her.

Stella put the flowers back in the empty vase and put it and the magazines back on the end table. "I think I'm cleaning, doing something productive, which is more than you've been doing over the past two days. Arnold, I know that the teenage years are depressing by nature, but don't you think you could just as easily zone out washing dishes instead of covering your face with pillows and acting like a bump on a log?" She stopped and stared at him. "I'm not going to have to go out and buy you a whole new wardrobe that's all black, do I? Because we just spent a fortune fixing the washer and dryer."

"No, Mom," Arnold said dryly. "I'm just not feeling like myself."

Stella sat down beside her son. "Still thinking about yesterday?"

He scowled. "I _wasn't_. Am now, though."

She hugged him. "Oh, sweetie, I don't think you're the first pitcher in high school baseball history to give up five runs without getting an out." She smiled. "You'll be fine next time. It was just a bad start."

He groaned. "Don't remind me." That complete embarrassment was one of the worst evenings of his life, and it had not gotten any easier the day after. The newspaper was covered with news of his breakdown, which also seemed to travel faster as school than rumors of the newest case of pregnancy. His coach said it was bound to happen sometime, since he had never had start that bad, but Arnold and his teammates knew better. His head was not in the game, and every single boy was pissed at him for not being able to keep his personal problems, which they all thought was his fault anyways (and he agreed with them), off the diamond.

Stella eyed her son. "Is something else wrong, Arnold?"

He chewed his lip and remained silent for a moment. "Yeah, but I don't really want to talk about it."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Stella stood up. "Well, in that case, stop moping and clean your room. It is disgusting up there, and what was that _smell_? Have you been eating up there again?"

He slowly stood up. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll clean it up." He slowly slunk out of the room, sulking.

"Arnold?"

He turned on the stairs to face his mother. "Yes?"

She smiled. "Whatever's bothering you, you have a good head on your shoulders. Remember that. I'm sure you will be able to find how to fix your problems. And if you don't, your father and I are right here."

Arnold nodded and continued up to his room, trying desperately to remember what would have caused his room to reek. _Mom, somehow I don't think you and Dad would be too proud of me if you knew what I've done._

* * *

"I can't believe you hit him," Mickey said as she blew a smoke ring.

"I didn't hit him, I just pinned him up against the lockers," Helga said calmly as she slipped her latte.

Mickey continued with her chain-smoking and blew another ring. "At any rate, he totally would have deserved to have gotten hit."

Helga shrugged. "I was in school. Shoving is permissible, hitting's not."

"Bastard." Mickey muttered as she took a look at her friend. "Helga, are you honestly okay with this?"

Helga glared at her. "Okay? Would _you_ be okay with this? He says that he loves me, but then he pulls that shit." She sighed. "I didn't know. Maybe he's right. Maybe I had this coming from the start. After all, I was the one who wasn't honest about my intentions from the beginning."

Mickey propped her feet on the empty chair beside her. "True, but you had good reasoning. He's known you for how long and he's just now fallen in love with you? Please, you were doing him a favor."

"I don't know anything anymore. I really think this might be the last straw. I mean, he _loves_ me, at least he says he does, and that's still not enough."

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Why isn't that enough? I thought that was what you wanted? I mean, if he loves you he obviously wants a relationship with you."

Helga sighed and fidgeted with her hair. She twisted her cup in her hands. "I—it's hard to explain. I—he—it doesn't feel like it should, I suppose."

Mickey put out her cigarette and lit another. "Helga, you've been lusting after the guy—"

"Don't use that word. You make it sound dirty and obsessive."

"Helga, love _is_ obsessive. Haven't you learned anything from Calvin Klein?"

Helga laughed in spite of herself.

"Anyways, you've romanticized this _thing _to no end, so of course whatever he'd do would fall short of perfection. Besides, it's Arnold, the densest boy in the world. You knew he'd have to mess this up somehow."

"Well," Helga muttered, looking out into the distance.

"So…" Mickey picked her copy of _Alternative Press_. "I guess this means you're not going to the dance?"

"No, I'm going." Helga shoved a large piece of muffin in her mouth.

Mickey inhaled the smoke and stated choking. "What? You've got to be kidding me, Helga!"

"I told you, Miriam and Bob are making me go. Besides, I'm going with Cory. We'll just sit there and make fun of people in bad dresses who can't dance."

"Helga, I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, Cory still cares about you. A lot. You can't lead him on like that."

Helga rolled her eyes. "I'm not leading him on. And besides, maybe its time I started looking at him differently. Arnold's obviously not going to come around, so why should I wait? It's time to move on." She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on the table.

Mickey took a long drag of her cigarette. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Helga downed the rest of her drink. In all honesty, she had no idea what she was doing, but she could not see any other options.

* * *

Friday, May 1

"Are you coming to lunch?" Gerald demanded in an exhausted voice.

"No," Arnold replied, not moving his eyes from the spot they had been resting on for nearly five minutes.

Gerald looked him up and down with mild disgust. "Then do _something_, because you are completely worthless at this point. At least stop drooling, man!"

Arnold finally looked at him as he wiped his mouth. His sleeve was dry. "Man! Get out of here!"

Gerald laughed loudly, drawing attention from a group of people to their left. "Who's my biatch?" he cried.

"I'm your biatch," Arnold muttered as one of the female teachers chased after Gerald for shouting a curse word in the middle of the hallway.

Arnold watched Helga from his locker. She had been digging around in it for a while now, so he had not seen her face or heard her talk to anyone. She at least seemed to be in a good mood. He gathered up what little nerve he had left, and walked over to her locker. The next thing he knew, Helga had slammed her locker and was now facing him, her nose barely inches from his. "Tell me, Hair Boy, is there something on my ass?"

Arnold blinked. _What the hell is she talking about?_ "N-no, I don't think so."

"Really? There's nothing there that would have captured your attention for, oh, lets say five minutes. Because I know it doesn't look that good today."

"I—uh—well—see—""

"Uh, er, well, uh," she mocked. "I'll let you get your panties untwisted before you can talk to me." She spun on her heel, and started towards the cafeteria. He followed. "You know, my family has a very good lawyer and he can get one hell of a restraining order placed on that wide forehead of yours."

Arnold jogged in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. "You and I have to talk. Now."

Helga watched him with her arms folded across her chest. "Wow, look who finally grew a pair," she muttered.

"Don't be a bitch, Helga."

"Don't be a dick, Football Head," she retorted without missing a beat.

He sighed, and held his hands out in desperation. "Can we please take this somewhere private?"

She glared at him for several moments, her nostrils flaring with anger. "Fine," she grunted, and led him to an empty classroom. Arnold shut the door behind him as he entered the room. "So talk," she snapped.

"Look, Helga, both of us are at fault. You used me, and I kissed another girl."

"I didn't use you, Arnold." She smirked. "I used baseball, and last time I checked that wasn't a crime!" she finished angrily.

Arnold took several steps towards her, his anger and frustration leading him. "Don't joke about this!"

"That's what I do, Arnold! Jesus Christ, how long have you known me? That's how I deal with things. I joke about them or make some sarcastic remark. So just let me be." She sat down in a chair and pouted, her long hair shielding his view of her face.

Arnold stood silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "You know, she kissed me. I didn't kiss her."

"Yeah, you looked like you were putting up one hell of a fight," Helga muttered.

"Well, I was. And me asking her to prom was just her assuming that and coming in at the wrong part of a conversation. I was talking about you."

As her head snapped up her hair flew through the air, landing wildly on her shoulders, giving her the appearance that she was even more upset than she really was. "So why didn't you come after me?" she cried.

He stared at her. "What?" _Maybe she is that upset, _he thought as he looked at her.

Helga was staring up at him, clearly fighting to contain the tears that sparkled in her dark eyes. Her cheeks were splashed with pink and red, and her lips were oddly white. "I watched you two," she whispered, her face screwed up as she tried to find her words. "I saw her hugging you, and I heard her answer. And you saw me, humiliated, heartbroken, and _you just stared._ I left, and you just stood with her."

Arnold watched her look up at him in desperation as he tried to replay the scene in his head. Like a broken video, he could see Helga leave as he stood immobile in Lila's arms. "I didn't know what to do. I barely realized what had happened," he whispered.

She buried her head in her hands. "God, you've got an excuse for everything, don't you? Everything's my fault, and everything that happened that could be your fault was just bad timing or misunderstandings!"

Arnold grabbed her hands. "Helga—"

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

He released her, but he could feel heart pounding in his chest from anger and nerves. "Look, I'm just as sorry things happened the way that they did as you are. I liked where we were going."

"So did I!" She paused, as if afraid of what she was about to say. "And you're not sorry," she said with conviction.

"Excuse me?" Arnold said through clinched teeth.

She stood up to meet his eyes. "You're not sorry for what you did; you're just sorry that things happened."

Arnold felt his blood boil. "That's because I didn't do anything, Helga!"

"Stop lying!" she cried, breathing heavily. "It's your cowardice that got you—got us—into this situation."

"And you would still be lying about how we got together!"

"What? Oh, don't even give me that!" She turned away from him.

"You – you tricked me!" He pointed at her.

She swatted his hand away. "You found out that there was more to me then meets the eye. Oh, yeah, that's a horrible beginning, Arnold. And I didn't trick you into anything. You fell in love with me or whatever you felt for me all on your own."

"You used _her_ to get to _me_!" He ran his hands through his hair. "Why are we doing this? Why can't you just put this behind you and move on?" He grabbed her shoulders. "I still want to be with you. I still want you, Helga! Why isn't that enough?"

"Because I can't trust you!" she shouted, her voice shaking. "If this is what you do on accident, what will you do if one day you change your mind about her? Or you see someone else who you want?"

"I won't!" He searched her eyes for any signs of hope.

"You already did!" She wiped the tears from her face.

He leaned forward to wipe her face, and she quickly pushed his hand away. "I told you not to touch me."

Arnold stared at her. He had never seen her so upset, so openly hurt. "Why won't you let yourself be happy?" he whispered.

Helga stopped sobbing. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a low voice.

Arnold bit his lip, wondering if she could be any angrier at him. "I think you want to feel pain," he started slowly. "I think you need it. I mean, look at your relationship with your family. I think it's something you want to have. _You_ won't let yourself be happy."

Helga stared at him for a moment, her face frozen in shock. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "How dare you say that to me. You've heard the way they talk to me and how they treat me. Fuck you, Arnold." She struggled to find her words. "Damn it, I'd love to have what you have with your parents, but it won't ever happen for me. And you think I sabotage my relationship with my family? Because I need to have pain and be sad and depressed? How fucking messed up do you think I am?"

Arnold watched her. Her eyes were filled with hate. He knew he had gone too far. "I didn't mean that, Helga," he said as he moved away from her, stopping when he hit the wall.

She followed him. "Yes you did. Yes, you did! You wouldn't say that if you didn't mean it, Arnold. You're not like that."

Arnold slid slowly down the wall to the floor, feeling disgusting. Helga sat across from him, on top of a desk. She glared at him. "You know, I was doing you a favor."

He stared at her. Hatred was oozing from every word, and her eyes were dead. And apparently she still had a trump card up her sleeve. "What are you talking about?"

She scooted toward the end of the desktop and dropped her voice. "Your little Lila doesn't really exist. That's an act. I saved you not only from getting the embarrassment of a lifetime but also from getting one your pathetic little heart broken." Helga smiled a horrible, twisted smile that failed to reach her cold, lifeless eyes. "Lila is nothing but a cold hearted little whore."

Arnold stared at her. _She's bluffing. Lila's not who I thought I was, and is a little messed up, I'll agree, but not that. _"Stop lying, Helga. She's not like that. She's shallow, yes, but she's not a – a whore." He struggled to finish his sentence.

Helga looked at him with pure disgust. "After all this you still take her side? Arnold, she shoved her tongue down your throat on your first date. Does that sound like your vision of Lila? Your virginal, prudish, holiest of all Lila, being so sexually forward?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "First base isn't that sexual, Helga."

Helga rolled her eyes. "It is for the virginal prude you thought she was, and you're a bit of a prude, too, so she had to take it slow." She shook her head. "And it's more than that, anyways. Lila's heartless."

Arnold could feel his heart pounding in his chest as her words hit him like daggers, accusing him of being stupider and blinder than he was. "Being a—a slut," he said slowly, "doesn't mean you're heartless, Helga."

Her eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Lila's the reason why her father's married to the evil Ellen, rather unhappily, too," she said slowly in order to let the words sink in.

"How can Lila be the reason her father married Ellen?" he demanded.

Helga smirked. "Her dad was in love with this other woman, some complete do-gooder social worker or something, and he thought that Lila hated her. Lila was actually rather indifferent about the whole thing, but she let her father think that. Being the honorable and foolish man that he is, he'd never marry a woman whom his daughter didn't think highly of. So when he met Ellen at one of my father's gatherings, after he'd gotten his promotion, he realized how smitten Lila was with Ellen, basically because Ellen was rich, beautiful, and apparently sweet, and he started dating her and ended up marrying her because he thought his daughter needed a mother at this time in her life."

Arnold turned away. "I don't believe that. Why would he marry someone just because Lila didn't have a mom?"

"He genuinely liked her, at first. And she seemed so in love with him before they were married, so he fooled himself into thinking that he loved her too." She shrugged. "Stupid people do stupid things, Arnold, such as chasing after girls who don't exist and falling in love with their enemies."

"You weren't my enemy, Helga. You were just…misunderstood," he said without thinking. _That can't be true. It just can't!_

She snorted. "So you suddenly understand me, now?" She stood up. "I can't take this anymore, I'm leaving." She started towards the door.

"You can't hate me forever, Helga!" he cried as he stood up.

She laughed, and a cold, hard sound echoed in the empty room. She turned to him, tears sprinkling like diamonds in her eyes. "Arnold, I've spent the last fifteen years in love with you. I think I hold one emotion for a long time." She quickly walked out door and slammed it behind her.

_WHAT? Love? She's loved me for fifteen years?_ Arnold felt himself hyperventilating. _No, that can't be. I would have realized that. I **hope **I'd've realized that._ He ran out the door. "Helga?" The halls were empty. _Damn._ He stared at the desk on which Helga had sat only moments before. _How did it get this far?_ He noticed she had left that book of poetry she always seemed to be carrying around. He grabbed it and looked at the clock, and decided he had just enough time to get some answers. He only hoped the messenger would not kill him on sight.

A half-hour later, Mickey was doing exactly what he expected exactly where he expected. She was reading the _New Yorker_ and chain smoking beside magazine stand about two blocks from her school. She looked up to find an out-of-breath Arnold running towards her like a madman. "Arnold? What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have school?"

"Shouldn't you be in school, too?" he asked between breaths.

She went back to her magazine. "I'd be in chem. I never go to chem." She looked up, frowning. "I actually don't remember the last time I went to that class."

He stood with his hands on his knees, still trying to breathe normally. "How long has Helga been in love with me?"

Mickey looked surprised and slightly anxious. "What are you talking about?" She raised an eyebrow. "And I thought baseball players were supposed to be in shape."

Arnold glared at her. "She told me herself. I just want to make sure she wasn't lying to me."

She returned the dark look. "I shouldn't even be talking to you about this. Helga'd kill me if I was meddling in her business, and besides, I hate you."

"And I'm not exactly that fond of you either."

"Good. Glad we got that out in the open."

Arnold sighed. "Mickey, I have to know."

"Why? What will happen if you don't know? Will you burst into flames? Please, tell me you'll burst into flames." She clapped her hands together and smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"I have to know if this is worth fighting for."

Mickey's face softened. "I think you know that. Whatever I tell you shouldn't make a difference. If she's worth it, she's worth it. And trust me, that girl's worth it." She started to leave, but stopped. "You really want to know?"

"Yes!" he pleaded.

She sighed. "She says she's been in love with you since she first saw you."

"But we were toddlers!"

Mickey shrugged and threw her cigarette on the ground, putting it out with her shoe. "Helga's always been a little mature for her age." She bit her lip. "Arnold, she's had a bit of an ugly childhood. You know that, I'm sure. But, you were, for as long as I've known her, like, the one bright spot in her life. You're what got her through everything. She, essentially, lives to love you." She laughed softly at the bewildered look he was sure was on his face. "Look, I know that's a pretty f-ing heavy thing to know, but you need to."

Arnold soaked in her words. "But she says she hates me."

Mickey shrugged. "To Helga, love is hate. She hates her family, but she really loves them. She hates you, always has."

"Huh?"

"She used to hate you because you didn't love her and that hurt her. I guess now she hates you because you do love her and she can't handle how much that hurts." Mickey paused. "You do love her, don't you? Because if you are just dicking around with her—"

"I love her, okay? I love her because of how messed-up and hurt she is, yet deep down she's still a good person. Because I'm just like that. I see myself in her, and I want to help her." He caught his breath, suddenly realizing how serious everything was.

Mickey stared at him with a look that was half sympathetic, half pity. "So help her. Look, Arnold, she loves you, and probably always will, in spite of her efforts to feel otherwise. Her fit will pass, so in the mean time, be honest and don't piss her off too much." Mickey looked at her watch. "Look, I got to go. Probation officers kinda don't like it when you're late. Just, think about things for a while, and give her time to cool off." She put her cigarette out. "I'll see you later."

Arnold watched her leave. His head felt like exploding from all the pressure that had built up from the mess. _Why can't I just go back to when girls weren't complicated?_ He grimaced, remembering how annoying and confusing both Helga and Lila were when they were younger. _Okay, never mind. I have to fix this. I have to fix this so I can be with Helga. That's all I want…_He sighed. More than anything he had ever wanted, more than playing guitar, or playing baseball, or even being with his parents, he had never wanted anything more than to be with Helga. _She still loves me…and I can break it off with Lila. I can…she's not my girl…Helga is…I can do this…I can do this…._

* * *

Sunday, May 3

Arnold sat outside Lila's in the blazing sun, and he could feel the hot pavement through his shorts. The weather was above average for early May, and Arnold cursed the lack of shade around her home. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket, which he accidentally picked up with his keys the day before in his rush to get to practice, and played with it, flicking the flame on and off. "Shit, Lila, Ellen said you weren't doing anything, and I don't care how you look," he muttered.

"Well, aren't you just a Goddamn charmer," a cold voice said behind him.

He turned and watched a very un-Lila-like Lila sit down on the step above him. Her hair was unkempt and loose in a ponytail, and her figure, normally clothed in something expensive and put together, was hidden underneath a baggy t-shirt and boxer shorts. Her make up was smeared as if she had not washed her face yet from the day before, and it was well into the afternoon. She snatched the lighter from his hands and lit a cigarette.

Surprised, Arnold raised his eyebrows at her. "You smoke?"

"Among other things," she blew smoke into the air.

Arnold leaned against the steps, watching her as she crossed her slender legs and stared glassily into the distance. "Why are you telling me this now?"

She sniffed and looked at him fiercely. "I know how you feel about Helga. I know you love her."

Arnold stared at her, in astonishment. "What? How?"

She laughed coldly, flicking ashes in his direction. "Please, Arnold. It's my job to know things of this detail. Especially when they involve me."

He looked away, unable to watch her as he asked her what he needed to know. "So is she right about you?"

She shrugged. "Depends. What did she say?"

Arnold closed his eyes as he struggled with his words. "She, er, said you were a selfish, heartless whore, basically."

Lila laughed. "Yeah, that's definitely what she thinks of me. Good to know she's consistent."

Arnold turned to face her. "Is she right?" he repeated, his temper beginning to give way to his anger.

Lila's blue eyes, now reminding Arnold of ice, met his gaze. She turned away, pouting her lips as she lifted the cigarette to her lips. "Basically."

Arnold felt anger and stupidity flood his chest. He had wasted too much time lusting after a girl that was nothing but a mirage, a myth. Suddenly he felt an urge for more, as disgusting as it was. He had to know everything. "To what extent is she right?"

She stared at him in shock, her eyes wide as her brows formed a v. "What?"

"What do you do? What have you done?"

She watched him in clear confusion. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice shaking, the cigarette burning in her limp hands.

"Because I have to know how wrong I was about you." He shook his head. "I don't think I can let go of you until then."

She struggled to find her words. As she spoke, she sounded on the verge of tears. "What do you want to know?

"Are you a virgin?"

"No."

Arnold swallowed hard. "When did you lose it?"

"My virginity?" she asked in a high voice.

"Yes, your virginity," he said coldly.

"I was thirteen," she whispered. She flicked the cigarette way and pulled her legs to her chest, hugging them for comfort. She looked like a small child as she rocked slightly.

"How old was he?"

Shame clouded her face as she spoke to him. "Eighteen."

Arnold nodded, thirsty for more. He had to know everything. "How many others have there been?"

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"How many?" he demanded.

"I don't know!" she cried. "Twenty men. Maybe more, maybe less. A handful of girls."

"Girls?"

Tears of shame began to fill her eyes. "Things happen when you're high."

"Off what? Pot?"

"Please, Arnold," she laughed, cutting into his soul as she laughed at his naïveté. She shrugged her shoulders as a tear fell from her eye. "I'm just a coked-up baby doll," she said with an awful smile on her face.

"When did you start doing all this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. At first it was just to fit in, but then I found I enjoyed it." She laughed. "You know, Helga and I have hung out together at our parent's stuff for a while. Well, I wouldn't call it hanging out, but we were at the same things, and I think it would be more expected of her to turn out the way I did. You know, being so ignored for so long by her parents. I'da figured she'd find solace in those other bad things, but I guess that was me, the ever-so-sweet-and-innocent Lila." She took another drag of the cigarette. "I'm just another teenager corrupted by money and boredom, basically."

"What about your father? Are you the reason why he didn't marry that other woman?"

Lila stared at him, and as she did, Arnold did not need her to reply. He knew the answer. Arnold watched her with interest. "So Helga was completely right about you. You are heartless, and it was all an act."

She looked down. "Yeah, well, not everything that's glitters is gold." She paused. "I did really like you, though."

He eyed her carefully. "Really?" he asked, although he already believed her. He could tell it was only one of the few honest things she had said to him.

"Yeah." She laughed. "You were so trusting and delusional, like I used to be. So unlike all the guys I've been with lately. It would have been nice to just be in a normal, high school relationship for a while." She waved her cigarette in the air and watched the ashes fall to the ground. "Who knows, maybe it could've saved me." She glared at him. "But I doubt it," she finished, her tone cold.

"So if Helga knew the truth, and you weren't really the person you projected, then why did you hang out with her?"

She pulled her hair down and tossed it behind her. "Because my father wanted me to. He thought we should get along since his promotion had him hanging around the Patakis so much. And Ellen thought it would be good for Dad's career as well. And, of course, since Helga was in love with you, and she knew you liked me, it drove her insane."

He had never been so angry in his life. "Why would you do that to her? She has enough to worry about in her life without you making it more of a hell. Why didn't you just let us be together if you knew I loved her?"

She glared at him.. "Because you humiliated me. You rejected me. You're—you're in love with Helga, for Christ's sake! You were able to say such hurtful things, so I knew," she laughed. "I knew you couldn't help me. You hate me. And she used me to get to you. _She_ used _me_. The whole thing's revolting."

As he listened to her, his anger melted away, replaced with pity. He had never seen someone so pathetic. "I really am sorry about this, Lila. I should've told you." He was not as angry with her as he figured he should be, he was just sad. He knew he would never be able to save her and restore her back to his innocent Lila, and furthermore, he did not want that lie anymore anyways.

"I led you on too, Arnold. And I'm sorry, ever so sorry for that."

He sighed. _So one thing never really will change._ "It's alright. I let you lead me on." He laughed and smiled at her. "So now what?"

Her eyes flicked with something, but he was not quite sure what. "Well, prom's Saturday, and the prospects of either of us getting another date by then is slim, so what do you say to going together to save face?"

He hesitated. "Lila, I can't. That'd just be throwing fuel in the fire."

"Arnold, she's going with Corbin, and you sitting at home on Saturday is not going to change that, nor will it make her run into your arms."

"No, but me asking you to the prom is what got me into this mess in the first place. If I go with you, she'll hate me even more."

Lila lit another. "I don't think that's possible."

"Lila!"

She laughed. "Sorry. Look, the problem that remains is a question not of love and what will piss Helga off, but one of honor."

"Honor?"

"Honor. You asked me to prom, and to ditch me would be going back on your word. And honor is very important to you, isn't it, Arnold? After all, that's one thing that I'm assuming Helga loves about you, because her father certainly doesn't have it."

He glared at her. "Don't do this, Lila."

"I'm only asking for one night. Dinner, pictures, and a few dances. That's all, and then I'll leave you alone. I have to save face, Arnold. Then I'll never bother you again."

"You can't win me back, Lila."

She laughed. "Arnold, I'm not going to _fight_ for you. I don't want you back. You're tainted and unattainable. I just need a prom date." She narrowed her eyes. "You owe me."

"Fine," he muttered, regretting the word as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"Fabulous. Pick me up at six on Saturday. Until then, I really don't want to see your face." With that, she left him alone on the steps, disappearing into the building.

Arnold stood up and took a long route to return to the boarding house, trying to make sense of everything he had just heard. Lila was just as messed up and horrible as Helga said. Worse still, he was still going with her to prom. "This can't get any worse," he said out loud.

"I wouldn't say that, sonny, if I were you."

Arnold stared down at a middle aged homeless man who was lying against the outside of an abandoned building, holding a small cup of a few coins. "Why's that?"

The man grinned, revealing a gapped, yellow smile. "I've found that when you say that, it only goes further down hill."

Arnold pulled out a ten and shoved it into the cup. "Thanks," he muttered.

_God, just kill me now._

* * *

A/N: Happy anniversary to me tomorrow…or today…anyways, later days. 


	13. Father of Mine

A/N: Not much…just trying to hammer this thing out…

Disclaimer – I don't own Hey Arnold!

A Sure Thing

Chapter 13 – Father of Mine

"That is the single worst fucking thing I have ever fucking done."

Arnold was too worn out to comment. He had just completed a three hour history exam, and he was pretty sure his brain had been reduced to mush. Beside him, Gerald was babbling like an idiot as they walked out of the exam room to their lockers.

"Seriously! People should be fucking locked up for doing that to children! Children, Arnold! Fucking weak!" he shouted.

Arnold glanced at him and shot him a dark look. "Would you please stop yelling fuck in the hallway? Somehow I don't think you could talk yourself out of trouble in this…er…state of mind…"

"Fuck that!" Gerald yelled. He grabbed his pencil and hurled in back at the exam room. "Fuck that!"

"Tell me, Johannson, is that was your essay was comprised of?" a cool voice breathed behind him.

Gerald and Arnold exchanged looks before turning around to face Helga, who was smirking at them. She rolled her eyes as they stared at her. "Move," she demanded, pushing them out of her way. Gerald chased after her, and Arnold stood stunned, glued in the same spot for several seconds before following him.

"Okay, Miss Hot-Shot, that didn't faze you at all?" Gerald demanded. Behind the two, Arnold was staring wide-eyed and open mouthed. It was the first time she had spoken to them in days. _Maybe Mickey was right…maybe all she needed was a little time to cool off, see things from a different perspective._

"Oh, let's see…" she pretended to think. "No, not at all. Then again, I actually have a brain that's capable of a coherent thought more advanced than, what was it, 'fuck that'?"

Gerald's face darkened. "I am perfectly capable of intelligent thought and making sentences of academic merit."

Arnold stared from him to her. Helga apparently hit a nerve that Arnold was not aware existed.

Helga, however, did not miss a stride. "I must have caught you on an off day, than." She smiled. "Sorry boys, but I must be going. My poor innocent, virginal ears can't listen to this nasty talk for another minute."

Gerald snorted loudly. "Innocent and virginal my ass! Helga, you are the furthest thing from that!"

She glared at Gerald before turning to Arnold. "Who do you agree with?"

He watched her dark eyes as they searched his own, trying desperately to look for an answer he was unwilling to give. He knew exactly what she was alluding to. He watched her stare back at him, her anger and annoyance slowing draining from her face, and a small smile spread on her lips as the corners of her mouth curled upward. "I see I caught you on an off day as well." She looked back a Gerald, her face once again angry and forceful. "As for you, I think your date would more than match you in surpassing any sins I may have committed."

Gerald's eyes flared and his fists clinched in anger. "Excuse me? What the hell does that mean?"

Helga's face turned blank and serious for a moment. "It means to watch her." She turned to Arnold. "That goes for you, too."

And with that, she left them, darting in and out of the crowd that now filled the hallways.

Gerald pulled his eyes from Helga's disappearing figure and turned to Arnold. "What was that?"

Arnold shook his head, still full of disbelief. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since our fight last Friday." He started walking to the lunch room, Gerald strutting slightly beside him. "That was a good thing, right? I mean, she basically was completely hateful to me, but at least she's talking to me now. It was like old times, when she basically bugged the hell out of me."

Gerald frowned. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows with her, anymore? I think you sent her off the deep end." He paused as they got in line. "What was she talking about, anyways? The whole 'innocent and virginal' thing?"

Arnold shrugged, trying to downplay a conversation that he knew was not going to go well. "Oh, nothing. Lila, gets around more than we thought, that's all. And Helga knew."

"What?" Gerald's eyes were the size of small saucers. "Lila's a whore? Lila? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes-Holier-Than-Thou Lila? What's she playing at?"

Arnold fixed his eyes on a poster Ichiro with a milk mustache that was stuck on the back of one of the coolers. "The truth," Arnold said bluntly. He sighed. "Lila's a slut. She told me herself."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"_Yes._"

"She can't be!"

Arnold felt like strangling him. "Would you shut it? She _is_. I heard it straight from the horse's, or whore's in this case, mouth." He grimaced. "Sometimes the devil does tell the truth."

Gerald wrinkled his nose in thought, or perhaps in response to the smell of the tuna casserole that was for lunch. "We couldn't have missed that. Seriously, I can sense those things."

Arnold closed his eyes to prevent saying what he thought. _Of course you can. Who would you date if you couldn't sense that?_ He opened his eyes, which rested on a girl across the cafeteria who was busy chatting with a circle of girls, occasionally tossing auburn hair over her shoulder, then pulling it back, twisting it between her thin fingers. Anger and disappointment flooded his chest. For years he had pined over Lila, or over what he thought was Lila. Somewhere along the line, the real Lila and the façade had separated, and he missed it. He thought she needed him to protect her from the horrors of the world, but she obviously threw herself into such a world. He longed for an ideal, while the girl he had a sinking feeling he had long had feelings for grew up more isolated and in more pain than he realized or ever gave thought to. Helga needed his protection, but he did not even believe that anymore. Helga could handle herself, a fact she had proven tenfold. No, he needed her. "We did, and now I'm stuck with her for tomorrow." He threw himself down into a chair. "I'm gonna hang myself, Gerald. I see no way out of this."

"Don't be such a girl, Arnold," he said as he sat down across from him. He shoved a forkful of casserole into his mouth. "You have to look at the bright side."

Arnold looked at him in surprise. "There's a bright side to all of this?" He shook his head. "I'm the damn optimist, and I can't see _anything_ good here. Please, enlighten me."

Gerald smiled. "You might finally get laid."

"Gerald, I don't want to get laid."

Gerald dropped his fork. "Ever?"

Arnold chucked a piece of bread at him. "No, not ever. Of course I want to have sex, but not with Lila." He shivered. "God knows what I'd get."

Gerald nodded knowingly. "Too true…yeah, stay way from that."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Do you have any other advice for your padawan, oh great master Obi-Wan?"

Gerald wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Yes, Anakin. Get Padmé back." He smirked. "And stay way from Mustafar. And evil emperors with nasty looking faces."

Arnold could not help but laugh, ignoring the somberness of his situation. "Will do."

"Arnold, what are you doing home on a Friday night?" Myles asked as he joined his son in the living room.

* * *

Arnold was currently lying on the couch, watching the Mariners get crushed by the White Sox. He was wearing a born baseball t-shirt from freshman year that barely fit him; he had put on nearly twenty pounds of muscle since then, and his flannel pajama pants, also from freshman year, showed around a good three inches of ankle. His blond hair was matted down from wearing a hat at practice and from lying on the couch for nearly three hours. A half-eaten slice of pizza and several potato chips were sprinkled across his chest. The pizza box, chip bag, and several bottles of water and cans of pop littered the coffee table beside him. "Wallowing in the misery that is my life," he muttered gravely. He decided that he could not kill himself because he was not that selfish; it would break his parents' hearts. Instead he decided to be a normal teenager and mope around, while possibly developing an eating disorder of some sort.

"Oh." Myles put down his newspaper to study his son. "Your mother said you'd been doing that all week. I'm not going to have to go out and buy you a whole new wardrobe that's all black, do I? Because we just spent a fortune fixing the washer and dryer."

Arnold turned to stare at his father. "You two are _way_ too much alike." He returned his gaze back to the television. "That's what she said last week." He frowned and stared at his clothes. "I could use some new pants to sleep in. And a washer and dryer can't cost that much." Arnold frowned. He knew his parents were relatively well-off. He vaguely wondered why they were making such a big deal about money, but he decided that going for ten years in a jungle was enough to make anyone stingy.

"Somehow I don't think that's what's bothering you." Myles paused. "Though if it is, I think we might actually have bigger problems."

Arnold smiled in spite of himself. "No, that's not what's bothering me."

Myles propped his feet on the ottoman and put his hands behind his head. "Then shoot. Your mother took your grandparents out to a show or something….whatever your grandmother's been clamoring on and on about for weeks. So I don't have anything to distract me from my boy."

Arnold sat transfixed with the television for a few minutes, not willing to talk to his father about anything. He was ashamed of himself already; he did not want to add his father's disappointment onto that. He was the pride and joy of their lives, and for some odd reason they believed him to be some kind of perfect child who rarely made any major mistakes.

"Arnold?" he asked after an inning past. Arnold responded by opening up another can of pop.

"Arnold, damnit, you have a problem and I'm here to help. I didn't get to do this for years, and I'm not going to let you turn yourself into a shell like this. Now talk!"

Arnold turned to look at his dad, and the shame he had been dreading ran through his veins. His parents were rather pushy when it came to helping him with his life problems, again, due to their long exile away from him. They had missed so much of his life, and they seemed to be making up for that lately even more than usual. Arnold sighed, deciding he could not avoid the matter any longer. Besides, his father might have some useful advice for once. "It's girl problems, Dad," he said simply.

Myles nodded. "Well, I'm the right person to talk to. I'm always in trouble with your mom."

Arnold laughed. "I'm in love." _Might as well just throw it all out there._

Myles frowned. "Not with that Lila girl."

"No!" Arnold cried. _Wait…_ He glared at his father. "What makes you ask that?"

Myles shrugged, the very same shrug that Arnold used when trying to downplay something important. "She's…just not for you, son," he ended lamely.

"Why—"

Myles raised an eyebrow. "Arnold, I would have figured that after living in this house for years you would have figured out when it's okay to ask questions and when you are better off not knowing _anything_."

Arnold scratched the back of his head and turned his attention back to the television. _Well, that explains a lot. Dad _chooses _to be dense. Good to know._

"So what is the problem with Helga?" Myles asked, reopening his newspaper. "Huh, Super Sonics traded that point guard. I liked him."

"Well, nothing except that she hates me." He sat up and told his father the entire story. Well, the abridged version. "She did finally talk to me today. Is that a good sign?"

Myles laughed. "Generally, but with women, you never know."

Arnold made a face and slumped back down.

"Arnold, I'm going to let you in on something."

He watched his father with interest, realizing how much he reminded him of his grandfather.

"Men in this family have always been attracted to, crazy women, to put it nicely. I mean, look at my mother."

Arnold smiled.

"And your mother, although normal on the outside, is completely crazy on the inside. In a different way from your grandmother, but definitely crazy." He scratched his head. "My point is, because we love crazy women, and we're not exactly the most gifted men when it comes to dealing with them, which is why I was so happy when you were a boy and not a girl. It never is easy for anyone, but especially not for us."

Arnold frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Basically, we mean well, but we always mess up in one way, shape, or form. But when we see the woman we love smile, we knew it's all worth it, no matter how many blooming apologies we have to make for things we didn't do."

"That sounds very familiar," Arnold said.

He nodded. "You're going to mess up, Arnold. And you, my son, seem to have very elaborate taste in how to do just that."

"Thanks, Dad," Arnold said sarcastically.

"Arnold, the hard part isn't in getting her. It's in _getting her back._ You can't hold back there. Now, my advice to you is to let her relax a bit more. Clearly she's starting to come around. Give yourself time to think of something, _elaborate_," he chuckled as Arnold glared at him. "And get her back."

Arnold grinned. "Thanks, Dad."

Myles reopened the paper and resumed reading. "Any time. Also, I've found showering and not kissing other girls to be very good things to remember as well."

Arnold groaned and threw a pizza crust at him, never happier to have his father around.

* * *

Helga sat Indian style on the dining room table, checking her fantasy baseball rankings on the Internet. She had yet to figure out why the signal for the wireless Internet was strongest in the dining room, and, because Miriam had insisted on buying the most ugly, most uncomfortable chairs that she could find simply because they were the most expensive, Helga had no choice but to perch in the middle of the table, just behind the every expensive Tiffany vase filled with dying calla lilies. She stretched her arms out and over her head, placing them on the table and shifting her weight as she watched the newest music video from The Used. She had spaced out watching it that she failed to notice her father entered the room. She had forgotten he was even home; Miriam and Olga had been gone all day at the spa and would not be arriving home until the next morning.

"Get off the table," Bob muttered as he poured himself a drink.

"Get off the booze," she retorted. She looked up at her father's angry face. "Sorry, Miriam's problem. Uh, get off the bacon?" her voice trailed off as she wondered where that came from.

"Your mother does not have a problem, and get off the table." He managed to get several olives out of the tiny bottle with his fat fingers and replaced the bottle with a loud clunk.

Not willing to continue talking to him any longer, Helga complied, not paying to much attention to the vase as she slipped down onto one of the chairs.

"Careful! Do you know how expensive that is?" he snapped as, to Helga's horror, he joined her. He was at the other end of the ridiculously long table, but it was still too close for Helga's taste. She could not remember the last time she was alone in the same room as her father for more than a minute. He usually avoided her. "What are you doing home on a Friday night?" he asked as he drank his martini.

She glanced at him before returning to her computer, desperately trying to think of an escape. "Nothing major. Just reorganizing my coke ring." She looked up at him with a brief smile. "Got some new customers. Real heavy hitters. My profits are going to skyrocket. Oh, and my pimp's on holiday in Bangkok."

His face remained stony. "I see you're still into that whole sarcastic phase."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Seventeen years and still going strong."

For several moments, the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence sans Helga's quick typing. She was IMing her friends, begging someone to call her cell to save her. Of course, not many people were at their computers on a Friday night.

Bob cleared his throat, ready for another round of failed conversation with his youngest daughter. "So, did your dress come in?"

"Yea, it was delivered Wednesday."

He swirled the liquid in his glass. "So, how is it?"

She glared at him. "Expensive."

The dress, in reality, was a gorgeous designer dress, and looked amazing on her, but it reminded her of something Olga would wear, only in pink, which did not surprise Helga because Olga and Miriam picked it out for her on their latest shopping escapade. "That's what I like to hear," he said as he went back into the kitchen. Helga's sigh of relief got caught in her throat as he returned with another drink. "Only the best for my Olga."

"Helga," she said automatically.

"Didn't I say that?" he asked, pulling his Blackberry out.

"No. You never do."

"Well, I'm a busy man, Olga. You can't expect me to get everything right every time."

_Not everything, just your daughter's name. Not even every time. Once would be wonderful._ She had had enough, snapping the lid of her computer shut. "Well, I'm tired so I think I'm going to go to bed. Big day tomorrow and all."

"Not so fast," he said without looking at her. Helga stopped half-way up from her seat. "I want to talk to my youngest daughter. Catch up."

She sat back down out of curiosity. The last time he did that was three years ago and the torture lasted long enough that Bob got wasted and ended up breaking her wrist after she accidentally got him to admit to his affair with his former secretary. She grabbed her wrist and fought back tears as the memory rushed back to her. "Really, I'm tired. Big test today, and I'm wiped."

"Nonsense," he growled. Helga could hear the anger begin to creep into his voice and thought it was best to do what he said. It was rare that she was afraid of her father, but she was worn out from her personal problems and did not have the strength to fight him verbally and still protect herself. "So, who's the lucky boy who gets to take my lovely Olga to the prom?"

"Um, my friend Cory's going with me. You remember Cory, right?"

Bob finished the rest of his drink and grabbed a six pack of beer. "Yeah, that chubby little kid that followed you around all the time when you were little. Nice boy."

"Thanks."

He eyed her as he opened a can. "You want one?"

She frowned. "I'm seventeen, Bob."  
"Huh, I thought you were older than that. You're sure your not twenty-one?" he asked as he quickly finished the first.

"It would be something if I was of age and still in high school," she said, unable to stop herself.

He stared blankly at her for a moment, as if unable to listen to her clearly. "Right. No Pataki's that stupid, right?"

"Right," she said uncomfortably.

He laughed. "God, that kid ate us out of house and home. Thought our house was a Goddamn smorgasbord."

"He's thinned up now," she said as she glared at her father's rotund belly. Two heart attacks had yet to change his ways, and only made him think he was more invincible.

"Good." He belched loudly. "What ever happened to that orphan that brought you home a few weeks ago? When you broke your arm."

"I sprained my ankle, and Arnold's going with someone else." She felt some of her edge creep out of her fear. "And he's not an orphan. He found his parents several years ago."

"Huh. I'll be damned. Probably crazy hippies like his grandparents, on welfare, living off of us hard working Americans, just living their lives as perpetual freeloaders."

Helga's fists clinched underneath the table and away from Bob's gaze. "His parents aren't hippies. They work at the university, developing cures for diseases and such."

Bob looked at her for a moment. "Well, I'm sure they probably grow medical marijuana there and steal it. You can always tell with that type of people."

Helga chewed her lip. Bob had never met Arnold's parents, who were probably the best people she had ever met. His grandparents were pretty wonderful too. It was no surprise that he turned into the man he was. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she thought of her own family. It was no surprise she had turned into the person she was. She had always thought she was somehow different then them, but Arnold's words from their fight echoed in her mind, and she realized she was no different from them. Selfish, hateful, and unable to be happy to save her life.

"Anyways, that dress will look amazing in the newspaper."

Her father's voice brought her back to the conversation. "Newspaper? What newspaper?"

"_The_ newspaper. Society pages. You're a Pataki, and we're important to this city. That's why I was so worried about your date. Got to have someone who'll look good, you know? And that designer dress will sound really good. Show that business is booming, and that the Pataki's are classy. It'll be great for business." He shook his head. "Great thing you're not going with that orphan. That's just depressing. We're not going for any sympathy angle here. Just straight class and money."

Helga snapped her eyes shut. "He's not an orphan," she said in a low voice.

"Well, whatever."

She stood up, loathing for her father flowing through her veins. "I'm not your doll! I'm your _daughter_! I'm not some puppet you can parade around and show to help your business!"

He stood up and walked over to her. The alcohol was strong on his breath. "How do you think that fancy dress was paid for?"

"I didn't want it," she muttered.

"What?" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders.

"I didn't want it!" she cried.

He shook her. "I work hard building an empire and this is the thanks I get? I give you a palace in the sky, and you speak to me like this?"

"I didn't want any of it!"

He put her down and raised his hand to hit her. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! No daughter of mine will ever talk to me like that!"

She stared at him, gazed into a face that was so similar to her own when enraged. She hated him. "And no father of mine should ever touch me like that."

Blinding pain was the next thing she knew. She was on the ground, thrown off her feet from the force of his blow. She stared up at him, only to see a face empty of remorse. "Get out of my sight," he whispered. "I don't want to see you the rest of the night." He turned away from her and sat back down. "We need to have you looking your best for the pictures tomorrow."

He went back to his work as if nothing had happened. She picked herself up, grabbed her computer, and walked out with her head held high. The moment she reached her room, however, she broke down and threw herself on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The sting from his hand was fading, but her pride was bruised. "Where are you, Arnold?" she whispered as she cried herself to sleep under the starry sky.

A/N: Sorry for the Star Wars allusion…minorly obsessed with that at the moment…

I think I may have led this story into a dark place, considering it's supposed to be funny…I think it has to be dark, and it'll get happy again, I promise, but let me know if I've gone to far or if it's not that funny, the few humorous spots that are there…thanks. I also am considering upping the rating, not sure if I want to, because at 13 or whatever I could handle this, and 13 year-olds now I think can handle it, but I don't know. The language might be a bit strong, and the sexual overtone will get a bit heavier, but not much… but that's high school. Just please let me know.

later days.


End file.
